


Hotel Sardou

by ZerrinV



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Assassin's Creed: Unity, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, French Revolution, Historical, Mutual Pining, Reader-Insert, Strong Language, Unrequited Love, and there was only one bed, fake dating but it's 18th century French, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZerrinV/pseuds/ZerrinV
Summary: When Arno Dorian returns to the city to follow his own plan, he runs into a distressed girl in the street. Maybe they can help each other.
Relationships: Arno Dorian/Original Female Character(s), Arno Dorian/Reader, Arno Dorian/Élise de la Serre
Comments: 18
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first and possibly only Arno Dorian fic. I've had this idea for years and a few nights ago I finally started writing it and, voila. And now we're here. Basically this takes place in an imaginary timeline parallel to the game. Basically, you can think of it as the time Arno was expelled from the brotherhood and instead of what's happening in the game this happens. He leaves the city for a time and returns with a plan of his own. Also worth mentioning, as much as I like Elise x Arno, here Arno will be over that part of his life. They still care deeply for each other but not in a romantic way anymore.  
> I have no overall plan, possibly this will be a 5-6 chapter work.  
> So, thank you all for bearing with me and I hope you really enjoy! Any kind of feedback is much appreciated.

_ What the hell am I going to do now? _

That was all Marianna could think of. Today she had lost her job, hence a place to stay as well. She had spent all day searching for a new one. She was ready to do anything, anything that could give her some money, but all she got was doors shutting on her face and sore legs. By the time  the  sun had started to set she had prioritized finding someplace to stay  for  the night. Again, she had no luck. They were all too expensive, didn’t have a spare room, or straight up wouldn’t give the room to a single girl.

Then it was dark. The sun was no longer in sight and the streets were emptier. It was time to give up.

She leaned on a wall and let herself fall. She was tired, hungry and panicked, but above all she was desperate. The type of desperation that made everything else simply disappear. Silent sobs filled the air.

“Matmazel, are you alright?” She hadn’t noticed the young man standing above her ‘til he talked. She hadn’t heard any footsteps for a while, it was like he had materialized out of thin air. She rose to her feet, not wanting to look weak in front of a stranger. He looked like a decent man, good looking, clean and well dressed. The concern on his face seemed honest. Still,  a  decent-looking man could lie too.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Slight curiosity was added to his voice.

“I have nowhere to go.” The words fell out of her lips.

His eyes narrowed for a second. She looked nothing like a homeless girl. It was clear that she didn’t belong to the streets. What had happened to her?

“To be honest, I’m in need of a place to stay too. How about we help each other ?”

“How ?” She had nothing to give, and this act was beyond generosity.

“At the end of this street there’s a hotel. They rent rooms only to  married  couples. It should be better than an inn.”  Now things started to make sense. He would get to stay somewhere better than he could find on his own. For access, she would help and have the night in safety. A fair deal.

She met his eyes, one last search of any malice behind those hazel eyes and when couldn’t find it, simply said “ Okay.”.

He reached his hand for hers. She raised hers to hold as something clicked in her mind.

“I am not a prostitute, sir."

He chuckled. “Never crossed my mind.” Grabbing her hand, two begin walking rather fast. Unbeknownst to her, Arno Dorian was determined to stay hidden for a while. He was back in the city for a reason and to achieve it , stealth was a good opportunity.

“Are we in a rush?”

“I just can’t wait for some rest.”It was a bad lie, but it held some needed excuse well enough. The rest of the walk was silent.

**********

The hotel was not exactly at  the  end of the street, but it was close enough to be called that. It was a three-story building with a simple sign outside.

_ Hotel Sardou _

_ Rooms for Couples _

They were met by a middle-aged man inside. It was a small lobby, a desk and a chair behind it. A vase stood on the corner, but there were no flowers in it. The wall paint was worn off at some places, almost invisible to the eye.

“ Good evening, monsieur, do you have a spare room for us?” He avoided saying anything longer, for he had just realized that they never exchanged names. He hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.

“We charge 8 franks per day.” Arno reached to his inside pocket to retrieve the amount. By the sight of the pouch, the man yelled “Justine, bring the keys for upstairs.” He sounded hoarse.

Seconds later a woman emerged from the door behind him, holding a keychain on her hand. “Here you go. Have a nice night”.” Contrary to him, her voice was lovely like a mother.

Arno thanked, and two began to climb the stairs.

“And the names?” That hoarse voice again.

“Arno Victor.” He replied and took another step.

“And your wife’s?” He bit the inside of his cheeks.

“I’m Marianna, monsieur.” She answered before turning his face to Arno. They shared a triumphant expression. Next, the squeaks filled the air as they climbed the stairs to their room. Opening the door, he placed the candle he took from the hall behind them to the table.

The room was ordinary. Just a simple hotel room. A bed across the door, a closet, two chairs and a table, a sofa on the left, close to the door, and a small counter with a sink on the right. The candlelight was barely enough to see all this, moonlight hit the room from two windows, both close to the bed. Everything had signs of use, but they could probably be used for many years to come.

Marianne closed the door behind her and watched Arno drop his small suitcase. She had a small bag too, just some clothes, trinkets and money was in it. She never earned much to save or spend.

As the effects of their success cooled down, her brain started to process what she had done. She was in a room, pretending to be husband and wife, with a total stranger! It was dangerous, more dangerous than spending the night in the street perhaps. If something were to happen to her, even if she screamed for help nobody would interfere with husband and wife. Was this panic meaningless, she also wondered. Up to this moment he stayed true to his word.

She clutched her bag harder and stood by the door as Arno took off his coat, untied his hair and stretched.

“You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” He said, turning to her.

“It’s not right.” She whispered. The walls might not be  as thick as  they should be.“You paid for the room, you should get the bed.” It was what she truly believed with the fact that if she had the sofa she would be closer to the door.

“I insist.”

“I insist as well.”

“Alright.” He said. “For tonight.” Both of them had never said anything about days ahead of them. No tomorrow. No tomorrow night either. Maybe he’s trying to be nice, she thought. 

He striped the cover of the bed, grabbed a pillow and handed it to Mari.

“We can ask for a blanket.”

“A blanket in this season?” Surely this wasn’t the hottest time of the year but it was summer still. “ Married people share the blanket they have anyways.”

“You’re right.” He scratched his head. The tiredness had taken a toll on him. Such a careless move that would be. “You take the blanket. I’ll use the covers.” He said “No objections. I took the bed already.”

She nodded. He was proving himself to be a good man. The doubts were slowly sinking away, she felt more relaxed. Taking off the cloak she put the bag beside her pillow and buried herself under the covers. On the other hand, Arno had practically thrown himself to the bed and stayed like this for a time. She was sleepy and at the same time on the edge. Her forgotten hunger had returned moment by moment, this was also a factor. But more importantly, she couldn’t risk turning her face away from the room rather than the back of the sofa. Thus, the door was in her peripheral vision as well as the man. She watched him lay still for a time. The little creak of the bed almost gave her a heart attack at one point of the night as he shifted slightly. A few hours later, she felt the sleep claiming her and didn’t fight with it anymore.

\------------

The morning came and filled the streets with all kinds of people and their voices. Thank God, the hotel wasn't located in the middle of the city center, so it wasn't all that bad. Marianne usually woke up to much louder mornings, as the kitchen began working way before customers arrived. The cafe she used to work had given her a small place to live. Loud as it was, it was more than she could ask for. The delicious food the staff gave her, a relatively decent amount of money and a place to stay. That was until the shop was evicted. The disarray in the streets, in the whole country had affected them as well.

She woke up to an empty room. The bed wasn't made up properly. The suitcase wasn't where it was last night. She felt no curiosity to search for it, maybe it was in the cabinet, maybe it was gone with Arno.

With the sunlight, everything seemed better than the night. The cracks, discoloration and the holes were more obvious, yes, but the room also looked warmer. Like it could hold a good life to those who occupied it. Silly as that is.

She groaned while lifting the covers. The couch wasn't good for her body, that was  for  sure. The tension that had built up on her muscles was a bonus. She got up, washed her face and looked at the mirror. Her dress was all wrinkly and at some points, spotty. Her hair had strayed away from the bun she did yesterday. She carefully tried to tame it, turn it into something presentable. After all, she was going to look for jobs all day and she had to look nice to have even a small chance.

When she decided her efforts were enough, she folded the blanket and placed it to the end of the bed with her pillow. Giving the room a final look, she took her bag and left.

She thanked God for giving her luck last night and begged for some more for today.

"Good morning, dear. Your husband left early I believe." The same woman, Justine appeared from the room behind the desk. 

"Oh yes, he did." She tried to smile. " He had some-some paperwork to get done." It was a lie constructed as it was said. She hoped it wasn't noticeable.

"My man, Davy wanted to see him for something, but couldn't catch him before he left. He must've gone very early." She nodded to herself like she had approved something in her head. " How long have you been married?" 

"It has been 2 months." 

"Oh, newly married then! Wonderful. But I see no ring, did he trick you or something?" Justine playfully smiled as this wasn't an interrogation.

Marianne laughed, out of fear and frustration. She knew the woman meant no harm, just concern. "No, nothing like that." Even as a lie he wasn't the man to do such things. "Uhm, he said he would get me a new one in the city, so I took it out." She was kind of proud of herself for this creative, successful lie. 

"Well, he better get it soon!" She let a chuckle, accompanied by Marianne's.

"So, where are you going?"

"I'll just wander the streets."

"Be careful, honey. Not every street is safe for a girl like you." She finally turned around and left.

"Yes, it isn't." She murmured to herself as she took a step outside.

Her first destination was the nearest bakery. Yesterday she came here looking for a job. The same men greeted her, he had an annoyed face. He probably thought she was trying her chance again. Even after she bought a croissant, his expression didn't change.

She had decided to roam the upper streets. That way she was getting closer to central Paris, complicated to say the least. But this was the path she had to take.

As she walked, the streets began to look fancier, cleaner and rich. The windows of the shops were clean, the vitrines filled with all kinds of expensive stuff. People were different as well. Many of them didn't look extravagant, but the way they carried themselves was enough.

Cafe. Bakery. Book store (she was dismissed forever by the man who owned it, screaming behind her that no woman was to touch her books). Dress shop. Inn. Tailor. She tried every one of them, multiple times. Some immediately shut the door on her face, some questioned her and didn't like the answers, some offered her so little money that was impossible to live on. 

The sun was lowering in the sky. She was hungry again, hungry for hours to be honest. She should've gotten something to eat and  headed to  the hotel.She dwelled for a little longer. Maybe she was scared to be rejected, not being let in more than any of this. What worse could happen, she thought to herself as she turned her direction back. 

Tired, messy and a little bit dirty. She looked worse than yesterday, but the warm bread she held and ate while walking made her somewhat peaceful. She had a destination. The one she grew closer every second by distance and by heart.

She opened the door of the hotel. Davy, she remembered her name from the conversation she had in the morning, gave her a nod when their eyes met. He returned the keys, she had left it to them. She climbed the stairs.

The room was the same. She put the keys and the bread to the table. Lighting the candle with the one on the hall, the room was dim. Shadow of her danced on the walls as she washed his face and hands, unraveled her hair and massaged her scalp. 

"Is that bread from the bakery on the Rue de Ile?" She jumped at the sound behind her. This was the second time he manifested like a ghost. "Mon Dieu, I didn't mean to scare you." He looked weary. Were his cheeks red? It must be because of the candlelight, she assumed. "I thought I was loud enough.

" 

"It's fine." She breathed heavily.

"Can I have some?" He gestured the bread, walking closer to the table. 

"Of course." Her eyes followed him. He took a piece from it and let himself to the couch. A sigh escaped his lips.

"How did you know where I got it?" She asked as she sat on the chair.

"We always used to buy from there when I was a child. I don't know what it is, but it always smelled subtly different from others." So, he lived here as a child, she deducted.

"How was your day?" He asked before taking a bite. 

"Hopeless. I tried everywhere to find a job. You see, the cafe I used to work and live  in  got evicted. That's why I was in the street when you  found  me." She quickly explained, realizing she never told him any of it. Quickly added this too. "But I haven't given up." Didn't want him to think she was going to be here forever."How was yours?"

He took a second before answering. "Harder than I expected." As she hadn't told anything about herself, he hadn't done it either. 

"I've never asked what you do."

"Are you asking me now?" He retorted. "We haven't been properly introduced either." Silence filled the room.

"I am an accountant." He replied sometime later. He managed Cafe Theatre for a while, it would count as this. He wanted no question marks on her hand, it was an unnecessary risk.

"I am Marianne. Marianne Genet." She felt obliged to say, even though they both knew.

"I am Arno. Pleased to meet you, matmazel." He smirked. Giggles of her broke the distress in the room.

"Did you avoid Davy with or without knowing this morning?" The question came out of nowhere.

"I wasn't aware he was looking for me." He furrowed his brows. " I don't think I would like to meet him anyways. Did that woman tell you this?"

"Yes, before basically interrogating me."

"I knew they wouldn't just accept words. We need to make sure they won't suspect anything."

"How?"

"Papers..." A pause for thinking. "Rings."

That reminded her of something.

"Yes, she asked about the rings." Before she could continue, he interrupted her.

"What did you say?"

She bit her lips, thinking ways to explain without looking like a gold-digger. " I swear, I was just making everything up as I said." Confusion ran through his face. "She asked why there was no ring. I said you promised to buy a better one in the city." 

The candlelight flickered. 

"That's quite genius actually." He was impressed. "I'll keep that in my mind."

"Okey." She whispered to herself.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'll get this blanket." He pointed at the bed."I said only for tonight before."

He was actually meaning it back then. "Arno, you don't have to--"

"Just get on the bed already." His voice instantly got sleepier.

She blew the candle out and aimed for the other side of the bed that wasn't used. There was no way she would ruin the sheets with her muddy hems. With a quick glance at the man on the sofa, she did her best to take off the drees silently and fast. Barely folding it, she dived into the bed, under the covers. It felt like heaven. It was comfy enough to make her sleep instantly, combined with all things.

"Arno?" She called silently.

"Yes?"

"I also said that we were married for two months."

"Okay." He acknowledged. "Maybe you should try İle de la Cite tomorrow." 

"All she could manage to say was "Okay."

  
  
  



	2. Ile de la Cite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mariane continues her search. Arno is into the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here's another 2.9k chapter. I usually don't have a word limit, but these early episodes came out like this and I hope you'll like it. I plan to update every week, so it's every Friday. Thanks for the attention you've shown, 6 years after the game release it was surprising to find this many people. Hits, kudos and comments are much appreciated, please keep the feedback going, positive or negative. Thanks in advance, enjoy!  
> Ps: I had to change Cafe Theatre's plan because it made no sense as a workplace. Trust me, I roamed at it for like an hour before writing, I hope it's not so confusing.

When she opened her eyes, the sun was new in the sky. She let out a small groan, _just a little bit more_ , she thought.

With the same feelings, she woke up. Like all the sleep she was deprived of was taking revenge. She forced herself to get up. The sun was almost on the top of the sky now. Quickly, she made the bed, washed her face and braided her hair without looking at the mirror. Pulling out a new dress from her bag, she put it on.

All the things she did to look better felt like unnecessary delay. But after all, she couldn’t afford to look worse than yesterday. Marianne locked the door and ran outside. _Ile de la Cite_. It was a small island, not a place she would search for a job. It would probably take half a day to explore. Not many shops were located there, a disadvantage. Despite the impracticality, she had made her mind up for there. The thought had rationalized in her head during the night.

The sun was offering all her radiance and warmth to Paris that day. Maybe because of that light, she noticed every detail around her. She knew the layout of here roughly. As she looked around, she pieced together the little things she had forgotten or learned it anew. Ile de La Cite was similar to central Paris, it was a sumptuous island with upper-class people, but the streets and buildings seemed more welcoming. She couldn’t quite place her finger on why though.

On her arrival, she was greeted by a big, white building. Cafe Theatre. The name was familiar, it was a buzzing center for a few months. She knew she was underqualified from what she had heard about it. So, she directly passed it.

The streets were more on the residential side than shopping centers. She entered every door she found like the last day. Multiple general stores she saw. They needed no help. One big boutique, the madame of it was a lovely woman but Marianne lacked the precise skillset for here. For the first time in her life she walked into an antique store. She wondered how it was still open. Surely it should be offering the rarest items for customers to drag them all the way to this island. The man who owned it looked disapprovingly to her, making certain that she would never return. A gun shop owner was the exact opposite of the antique dealer, he would possibly hire her if she had any clue about gunpowder and arms. She tried laundresses but the person in charge wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Eventually, a big circle was completed and she was back at the Cafe Theatre’s door.

_What worse can I face?_ Entering the overflowing cafe was like entering another world. It was loud, barely tolerable. People discussed with heat, cackled and enjoyed the music. They wore all kinds of clothes, not one inappropriate, as one would expect. Philosophers and artists made their reputation on not dressing properly and this was a place for them to meet but none of them lived up to the rumor. On the modest-sized stage, opposite to the door, a few people stood, probably working on some kind of play, she assumed. There were two doors on either side of it. The place was illuminated well. The biggest light source was the door to her right. In the air different scents mingled; beer, meat, basil, caramel... She shook her head, snapping out of the trance she’d found herself in. Nobody had noticed her. She walked to the bar.

“Excuse me, can I talk with the manager?” She asked the woman behind the counter, who nodded her head and after pouring the drink she held, went from the door right of the stage.

Sometime later, she returned with a man. He was dressed elegantly and held a ledger book in his hand. His short hair had some graying strands, so did his beard. It was obvious that the wrinkles on his face were not new. He had a rigid expression, lips pressed together and eyes gazing into her soul from above. She gulped.

“So, girl, you wanted to see me?” His voice wasn’t belittling as she expected, but it was clear that he wanted this done quickly.

“I-I am looking for a job. I have experience. Anything- I can do anything; a waitress, cook, barmaid, or I can do the dishes-“ Her sentence trailed off.

“We do not need someone new.” He stated.

“Philip!” The woman she talked before hissed at the man. “It’s a big place, we always need someone new.”

Philip placed the book on the counter, put on his glasses and shuffled through the pages.

“No request has been noted for new personnel.”

“Cut the crap, Philip.” The woman whispered in anger, not wanting the disturb the customers. She moved closer to them. “You know it. When we say we need help in the kitchen you sent a girl from laundry and when laundresses call you sent one of us. It won’t work like that.” The man’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. She continued. “ We’re growing-“

“Yes, this is exactly why.” He interrupted. “We can’t afford to hire every girl that comes.” He was trying to be discrete, but listening carefully Marianne could hear.

“You know we can. We’re growing.” _Touche._ “Hire her.” She commanded and moved to the other end of the counter to serve new customers.

Philip sighed, closed his book and looked at her. “Eight franks, nine if you agree to rotate. You’ll be here every morning except Sundays, at 8.00, leave at 6.00 most of the time. I don’t know how they arrange hours.”

“More than accepted.” She tried very hard to keep a professional face. He brushed past her to head the way he came. She. Had. A. Job! She pressed a hand to his mouth, drowning her laughter. The woman behind the counter was smiling at her, obviously she had listened to what was happening.

“Follow me.” He said, impatiently.

“Alright, monsieur.” She replied and followed him. Passing the door, they were standing in a white antre, halls to either two sides and a huge staircase in front of them. Daylight came from the windows behind it. They turned right, entering the first room. The walls were red. Shelves contained all kinds of folders and books, just like the one he held. In the center of the room there was a study table. It looked like someone had left it in the middle of the work. That explained his haste. He sat down, pulling a paper and a quill.

“Name? “

“Marianne Genet.”

“Marianne Genet, 9 franks per day.” He wrote. “I’ll write you’re hired as kitchen staff, but as I told you that can change from time to time. We are determined to keep our standards, so don’t you dare coming here like a raggedy doll at any time.” She made an approving voice. Putting the quill back, he dismissed her. “Now go find Adelaide, she’s in charge of you all. She will show you the place, and I expect you in the morning. “

She nodded and went back to the bar. The woman was still there.

“He hired you, right? ”

“He did.” They both looked happy. The woman looked content.

“I know he’d listen.” She said to herself, but it was heard by everyone around. “I’m Sarah. That was Philip, our intendant. I know he looks hard but he cares about us, you’ll get used to.”

“Marianne. Thank you for what you did.” If she had a job now, it was due to Sarah’s stubbornness. “I was told to find Adelaide.”

“She must be with the cooks. See the entry near the stage?” She pointed at the door on the left, Marianne had completely missed the arched pass near it. “Blond hair. Brown eyes.”

Two rooms were in that hall and the big door to the kitchen was already open. A narrow, rectangular room full of people like outside. And just like outside, it was loud. The smells were stronger and the fire of the stove was added to the atmosphere. The door to the outside was open, but it was no help to neutralize the heat.

“Hey, what are you doing here? “

A woman who matched Adelaide’s description approached Marianne with big steps. The keys dangling from her belt clinked alongside. A few drops of sweat were on her forehead, making some strands of her hair stick to her face. At the first glance her age was unreadable, but Marianne guessed it about the end of the 30's. The way her shoulders were pushed back left no question over her authority.

“Master Philip sent me to you. I start working here tomorrow.”

“Good. Kitchen or laundry? “

“He told me to be ready for rotation.”

“Eh, it’s better than none. I’m Adelaide, basically chief of everything in the cafe. If you have a problem, you come to me. I’ll send word for you if you are needed elsewhere, so no need to come and find me every day.” Adelaide untied her apron and put it on the hanger just near the entrance. “Now, as you can see it’s the kitchen.” She rolled her eyes, realizing how unnecessary that was. “The supplies come every morning at 7.00 from this door.” She gestured the door Marianne had noticed before. “Most of them stay here and are used throughout the day and on the special deliveries we carry them to the cellar. “ The cellar was the other door she saw while coming here.

They walked through the cafe, taking the road to backstage. It was a room on its own, which opened to stage and outside. Dust was heavy. It was dark before Adelaide opened the back door. Sunlight hit the extravagant costumes. Wings, furs and other accessories were scattered across. “I don’t think you’ll be needed here much but once in a while, all these props need some maintenance. The actors use this door on play days.” They reached outside. It was a courtyard. The kitchen could be seen on the other side, and in front of them were huge baskets and clotheslines. “The laundry is done every Wednesday. Actually, it’s the house’s washday but we tag along. Tablecloths, aprons, the costumes if they get too dirty…”

Marianne shifted her eyes to the second floor. Intriguing. She had no clue that it was someone’s home. There was no movement behind the curtains.

“Master is out of town.” She must’ve realized her search. “I don’t think there’s more you need to know. Be here in the morning.” She basked in the sun for a second and took a big breath before retrieving. Marianne left the building. The sun was to set in roughly three hours.

Serenity. It had only been days since her life had turned upside down, but it had felt like forever. Day and night, every second was longer then it was supposed to be. Now, the ground stood steadier beneath her feet. The sun wasn’t scorching anymore, it was embracing. Alive, she thought. Not just living, alive.

If she ate now, hunger would strike her again before sleep. She decided to enjoy her victory anyways. She bought some fruit, peaches and grapes from a streetseller, walked beside the Seine and sat on a bench. She didn’t particularly think about anything, only savored the taste and let the cloud of happiness of other people hug her too. It was a good day.

Without waiting for the sky to turn orange, she finished the peaches and head back to the hotel.

On the road, she could’ve sworn to see Arno. It was a ridiculous thought, she had seen the same type or the same color jackets all day long, how was this one any different? The figure moved faster than the crowd and she wasn’t able to confirm her thoughts before he was lost. _Accountants don’t work in the streets_ , she tried to convince herself.

\------------

“Madam Justine? “ She called out. There was no answer. She knocked on the door. “Madam Justine?“ Some rattling voice reached her.

“Yes, darling? “ She opened the door.

“Do you know any place where I can wash my clothes?"

“I do the laundries on weekends. But if you can’t wait for 2 days I can give you a basin and some soap and you can do it yourself. “

She agreed. Bringing the dirty dress from upstairs, she walked into the room. It was bigger than they had. It was clearly divided (the bed wasn’t here) and had a kitchen so it looked the same size. The furniture was the same as well as the wall colors and the floor. A stewpot stood on the counter.

“To the garden.” Justine led the way. Marianne had never seen the small green area behind the building, it was a surprise. The washbasin and soap were there, waiting for her.

“Call me if you need anything.” Justine went inside.

And while she was busy with this, hours passed. It was already hard to get the stains out and once they waited a bit longer, it was a struggle. But she managed to handle it. Hanging it as flat as she could, she too went inside. Justine was knitting.

“I cleaned the stuff and put the soap on the windowsill. Thank you, again. “

“You don’t need to thank me, you did it yourself.”

Marianne climbed to their room. Arno hadn’t arrived. The bread from yesterday and the cheese she bought after that little feast near the Seine was on the table alongside the grapes. She took pieces from all of it as she made herself comfortable.

She was alone in that dim room for a while. Arno was notably late. She had her worries, but after all who was she to judge?

  
The empty bed looked tempting, but in case he came she prepared the couch for herself. She undid the laces of her dress and stepped out of it. Folding it properly, she put it on the chair, blew out the candle and got under the blanket.

The moment she laid her head on the pillow, rustling came from the door. She rose, at the edge. When the door opened, the candle on the hall illuminated the room, creating a shadow. The silhouette was Arno.

“Arno?”

  
He murmured something inaudible, swearing to himself. ”Did I wake you up? “ He closed the door.

“No. Where were you?” She bit her tongue for asking that. An hour ago she had concluded it wasn't her place to criticize.

“Getting some work done for us.” He pulled some papers from his pocket and put it on the table.

“Are those--?” She attempted to get up, only to remember that she was in her shift.

“Yes.”

Her curiosity got the better of her and she reached for the papers. The room was too dark to read, but she could see the markings and the official stamp undoubtedly. She traced them with her fingers. “Arno, how could you –get this?” Normal people couldn’t forge papers.

“An old friend helped.” He replied while unbuttoning his sleeves.

“Arno, this isn’t right, I don’t think it’s necessary-”

“We need it if we want to stay. You know it. Did something change since last night? ” Putting two and two together, he added another question. "Did you find a job? "

“Yes, I did. Cafe Theatre. Suppose I should thank you.”

“Cafe Theatre? Thanking me? “ His eyes lingered to the table and he put some grapes to his mouth.

“You were the one to suggest me to go Ile de la Cite.”

“Oh, true.” He said with a full mouth.”Then, are you leaving here? “

“No, I haven’t arranged somewhere else to stay. “ She hadn’t quite think about it either. Too drunk with happiness, presumably.

“Do you want to?"

“I don’t know, Arno. It’s been though a few days.” She played with the edge of the blanket and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to start new somewhere so soon.

“Don’t go.” His voice broke the silence. “I mean, you’re free to decide, but “ He put his hands behind her neck for a second.” We don’t need each other behind these walls but if we stick together it’ll benefit us both. And, uh, I already paid for a whole week, so…”

“And you put a lot of effort to get those papers.” She added.

Arno snorted loudly.” And yes, I put a lot of effort to get those papers.”

She knew he wasn’t a simple accountant as he claimed to be. It was riskier, maybe more than she thought once. But, it was a great deal with no better alternative.

“Okay.” She agreed. “At the end of the week we’ll talk again.”

“Thank you.” They both smiled.

“Goodnight.” She put the papers back, covered herself with the blanket and turned the other way. She had always liked sleeping on her left more. As drifting off to sleep, she heard some swish and cling of a belt. He must’ve been tired of sleeping in those clothes, she assumed.

  
And then there were only crackings of bed and breaths of two.


	3. The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne starts her new life, Arno is a little mysterious in this episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope I can meet your expectations about more Marianne x Arno scenes. I just can't wait to dive more into their relationship. Hope y'all enjoy it, I certainly do enjoy your interest. Feedbacks, kudos and comments are much appreciated, I am curious about your thoughts.

Marianne opened her eyes before she had planned for. It was still dark, only moments away from the sunrise. She had woken up to her bladder pressing her, so she got up as quietly as possible and relieved herself downstairs. The building had a common bathroom at the entrance level.

She returned to the room to find it empty. It was shocking, to be honest. She was gone for less than five minutes, and at this hour of the day, he was gone. The bed was messy and his coat was nowhere to be seen. Also, she was positive that she hadn’t heard any footsteps down there.

She scanned the street from the window left of the bed. It was populated by a few people. Arno simply wasn’t one of them. She shook her head sideways. Her curiosity was kindled but there was nothing to be done about it. She wanted to go back to sleep but that door was closed for her. She knew who to thank for that now. A small curse escaped from her lips in a whisper.

She folded her blanket and placed it on the bed alongside her pillow. She put on her dress and styled her hair in milkmaid braids. A long day waited for her and she did not need strands falling to her face by the midday. Finishing up the dried bread and everything that was on the table, she was ready.

She wouldn’t be carrying her bag today. She scanned the room to find a place to hide it. Opening the closet’s door, she was met by Arno’s stuff. There stood his suitcase and an unfolded shirt. Some stains on the cuff caught her eye. It seemed black in the light of the rising sun. Must be ink, she questioned no further. Putting her bag inside, she locked the door. Madam Justine greeted her.

“Going out this early?”

Marianne couldn’t guess how she would react to her working, but this was no issue to lie about. Every day she would see her leaving and coming back tired. No excuse as tea parties would be convincing after a while.

“I am working.”

Her face contorted in disbelief. “Why do you need to work? Your man seems wealthy enough.”

Maybe he was, who knows? His clothes and suitcase seemed sturdy, and he had paid for a week without hesitation. Possibly he had bribed some officers to get those papers, too. “I just don’t like sitting all day.”

“You’ll not be sitting all day soon enough anyways honey.” Marianne tried hard to forget the old woman’s meaningful smirk and gaze at her belly.

It was a strange experience, to be out on the streets when life only began in the city. She could see the stores opening, being delivered supplies, people walking hurriedly, street sellers positioning… She realized her love for the city, the variety of its people, the beauty of the sky where orange met blue, the reflection of it on the Seine…

Cafe Theatre had accepted its first customers. Marianne directly went for the kitchen. There was no need to find Adelaide but a need to find an apron. She had seen some extra ones in the hanger last day. She saluted everyone with a nod and exchanged _good morning’s_ and _how are you’s_. The door to the outside was open, freshly plucked vegetables stood in crates. The room was getting hotter every second with the thriving fire of the stove.

“Good, last day I forgat to tell you to grab an apron. It’s getting crowder, you’ll help Charlotte.”

Search for Charlotte wasn’t a long one. She wasn’t gliding between the tables or lost in the human sea. She was leaning against the counter, tray dangling from her hand, wearing the exact apron any personnel did. Her auburn hair reached her shoulders and framed her face perfectly.

“Charlotte?” She approached. “ I’m Marianne, just started working here. Adelaide sent me to help you.”

“About time. Congrats, by the way.” Her smile was genuine despite her sarcastic first sentence. “Let me quickly tell you how we work here. Normally we divide here into two parts, the “stage” and “around it”. As you can see in front of the stage floor is lower, you’ll take the customers there; I’ll take the around, have customers by the window already.”

“Okay.” Simple.

“Do you know the price policy?” Marianne shook her head sideways.

“ Behind the bar.” There was a blackboard with the menu written on it. “No sale on credit. They pay or you call us. Now go, don’t put your customers on hold.”

So the day began. It was tricky, being in a big saloon. She had grown accustomed to handling at most four tables, thus this place was challenging. Until midday the struggle continued, after that it didn’t bother her much. She looked up less and less to the blackboard, coins in her sack grew heavier and nobody warned her about a possible mistake.

“Take a break, noon has almost passed. Cooks will give you something. You can use the backyard. Then come back so I can take mine.” Charlotte patted her shoulder, grabbing Marianne’s empty tray.

The cooks gave her a hot bowl of soup. A chair was in the garden by the door, waiting for her like as it did for any other employee for their breaktime. She felt her legs relax, the sensation was close to a protest. She was content with the work she had done in half a day and hoped it would please everyone else too. She could get used to the workload, have this lifestyle and be happy, if only they let her stay.

With her energy starting to replenish, she ended her break to let Charlotte have hers, and returned to work. The afternoon passed easily, the same orders to the same tables. During small breaks between customers, she would lean on the counter, watching and talking with Sara. Charlotte would do the same, but rarely all three of them encountered.

\-----

Madame Justine greeted her as in the morning. This time, she was sitting behind the desk, knitting.

“Welcome back. How was your day sweetheart?”

“Tiring.” She had developed a small headache from the constant noise of the cafe. “Do you have any peppermint tea?” She hoped it was regular practice in this hotel, offering some services such as food and tea for a certain price perhaps.

“Yes, I’ll bring the pot once it boils. And by the way,” She went inside, emerging seconds later. “Your dress is completely dry.”

Marianne took the yellow dress from her hands with appreciation. “Actually, before that tea, I was going to ask for a bath.”

“Of course, that will be a frank.”

She pulled the freshly earned coin. The old woman smiled. “I’ll let you know once the water is heated.”

Asking for more than usual in such a short time made Marianne uncomfortable, but it was obviously one-sided. Justine had no signs of irritation on her face.

Marianne arranged the clothes to wear besides a towel and pulled her soap from the bag. She adored the scent of linden. It was a small way to treat herself, something she would never change, even it cost a bit pricey and was sold by a herbalist who lived in another corner of Paris. It reminded her home or her mother. She barely remembered both, the memories of them were intertwined.

She had been sent to her aunt on the mother’s side for education when she was little. Growing up with her cousins and their parents, she had limited time with her actual family. Her family wasn’t of noble descent, they possessed a certain wealth and a name but it wasn’t comparable to her aunt. That’s why she was sent, but she never felt the difference between classes and was never shamed for her blood. The revolution had them torn apart, they were chased out of the country and Marianne, left behind for sharing a different surname. Her aunt had cried for days before their departure, this shouldn’t have been the way, but she had her own family to think about. Marianne’s real parents were lost during that time too, probably among many victims of turmoil. Nevertheless, the scent of linden had her revisiting that old house, the one she was born in, and stayed the summers.

When she heard the gentle knock on the door, she grabbed her stuffed and went down. The marble floor of the dark room was already wet with steam. Two candles illuminated from the corner, away from the buckets. Locking the door, she hanged her things to the back of it and discarded the ones she was wearing. She placed those in small, old looking bench. Water had damaged it. She wasted no time, mixed the cold and hot water, cleaned herself.

She returned to the shared room, under one arm her old clothes and on one hand a tray with pot and two cups. Unlocking the door with her free hand wasn’t hard, especially thinking she carried trays for a living.

As usual, Arno came some time in the night. They exchanged pleasantries, and Marianne dragged the conversation no further with that headache.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he sipped her second cup. Her brows were furrowed since he had walked in.

“Just tired.” She answered. “Cafe Theatre is a big place, bigger than I’m used to.”

“Don’t I know?” His voice implied that he knew it very well.

“I’ve never thought you would spend time in a place like that.” With the shroud of mystery he carried, it was hard for her to imagine him in crowded places, with friends and drink in one hand.

“Yes, I have a life. I only left the city for one month, not years.” His implicative voice was much more prominent now. He stared at the floor for a second, thinking to himself. He had a life, once. Was it before Bastille? Or before his exile? Ever since he had joined the secret organization, his life was all about planning, hunting and gathering intelligence. At least he had people with him at that time. After his banishment, life had turned into a hunting party, and only a hunting party but he was alone now. Familiar faces were gone, no more fellow assassins, no more de Sade, no more Cafe Theatre and ‘til today no more Elise. And after all this, should he pay his debts and get his revenge, what would his life be like?

He didn’t like where his thoughts were taking him, so he snapped out of it.

“Is that linden?” He sniffed the air.

“No, it’s peppermint. You want some?” She realized her misunderstanding late. “Oh, yeah it’s my soap. I’ve just had a bath.” She sniffed too but couldn’t distinct the smell. “Please tell me you’re not sensitive to it.” Some people had strong reactions against various things, sometimes scents, sometimes foods. She hoped this wouldn’t be the case for him.

“Just realized. Also, I prefer something more strong.” He almost seemed offended on that tea offer.

“I didn’t think so as well.” She smiled as finishing it. Dragging the paper bag across the table, she made another offer. “ Well, Monsieur Strong, would you like some muffin? It’s from my favorite patisserie.” It was her new favorite patisserie, actually. Being on her way to work, and making delicious cakes, it had become number one a few hours ago.

Arno hesitantly took a bite, he didn’t have a sweet tooth. It was quite tasty, almost, almost a match to Versailles deserts. Aware of the eyes that studied his expressions, he nodded and thanked. Her face was luminous, taking pride as if she was the one who baked it.

\------------

In the middle of the night, they woke up to commotion. Muffled voices were coming from downstairs. An argument. Marianne propped herself up on her elbows and reluctantly sat. She could see Arno wearing his boots with unexpected speed, his movements didn’t match a man who was just torn from sleep.

“You stay. I’ll check up what’s going on.” He looked up at her, casually buttoned his shirt and left.

Stay? How could she just stay, wait or go back to sleep? She got up, taking her cloak which was hanged behind the chair, with a key in her hand took careful steps and eavesdropped from the beginning of the stairs.

“I will not have this in my hotel!” Dave shouted. It has been a while since he was around. “Pack your things and leave at once!”

Was there any other resident expect them? She had no clue. From upstairs came no sound, if there were any people they must’ve been staying on the top floor.

“What’s the problem?” Arno interrupted, but following voices suggested that he wasn’t heard.

“We paid for it and we’re staying!” Another man spoke and a dog barked. It was high-pitched, meaning not a big one.

“They sneaked up a dog.” Dave explained with anger. “No animals in my hotel!”

“I didn’t know that.” Arno’s statement went unnoticed.

“This is a hotel for families and he is a part of our family. There’s nothing wrong with it.” Man resisted. Dog barked with excitement again.

“It bothers other clients. See, it woke up him! We’re very sorry about it, monsieur.” Sudden kindness in his voice disappeared as quickly as it came. “ It’s a beast, and I’ll not have it shitting in my room and disturbing people.”

Marianne had seen small dogs. They were popular among women of wealth. Contrary to their tiny bodies, they made loud noises and showed teeth often, but they were not beasts.

“Gentlemen, I think an agreement can be ma-“

“It didn’t bother us.” She joined the argument. Knowing what’s like to be homeless in the middle of the night, she wished it upon no one. She approached, but was stopped by Arno. Holding his cloak’s edge’s together in front of her, she placed herself behind him.

“ But clearly it did, you’re awake.” Davy turned his head to the other man. “Look at what you had done.”

Now seeing the room clearly, she realized there were more people in the entrance, a woman, holding the “beast” close to her chest and Madam Justine, waiting by the door.

“This argument woke us.” Both men seemed apologetic, she continued. “How long has it been here?”

“Six days. He was with a veterinarian, joined us on our second day here.” Six days. The thought alone had the landlord enraged even more.

“We had no idea it was there this whole time.” She declared. “I think you can make an exception for such a well-behaved boy.” It was obvious the dog was trained, no harm would come from him as Davy suspected.

“No way.”

“Please?” A whisper.

“Come on, Monsieur. There’s no need to throw anyone out to the street at this hour when you can get paid and they would have a roof over their head.”

The final note came from Madam Justine, whose face clearly showed her patience. She touched him on the shoulder, giving an assuring nod.

“Fine.” He let out a big sigh. “One chance. A scratch on the furnitures or a piss in the wall and you’re out.”

“My son would never do that, sir.” This was the first time her voice was heard. She had enough of insults.

His husband expressed gratitude. “Thank you, sir. We shall cause no problem.”

And like that, everyone scattered to their rooms. The couple whispered thanks all the way to upstairs behind Arno and Marianne.

“When I tell you to stay, please listen.” He said with a serious tone as he took off his boots and made himself comfortable once more.

She didn’t understand what this meant. It was a safe place, what danger could possibly wait for them or her? At this time nothing good could happen, many would think but not here. “I’m fine, it’s not like something bad could happen here.”

“Just do as I say.” His voice was stern, showing his annoyance.

“Is there something I need to know?”

“Good night.” He laid and turned the other way.

“Bastard.” She murmered. Two times she had cursed because of him, on the same day.

“I didn’t know you could swear.” His grin was audible. 

She puffed and buried herself in bed with anger. “Thank you for standing beside my side.” She wanted to say, but now all she wanted to do was scream at him, and the solution to that was to sleep. 


	4. The Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on as Arno and Marianne spend more time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends! This episode was very challenging for me to write, I hope you see none of that and enjoy it. At the end, you may ask "Why?" but I assure you you'll get answers. As ever; feedback, comments and kudos are appreciated, you have no idea how many times I open AO3 in a day to see our progress. Thank you all, have a good time!

Once a night’s sleep is disrupted, one cannot wake up to a good morning. And after the last night’s events, they were both experiencing this fact.

Since his return to the city, Arno had been investigating. He had crucial information about La Touche, much more than he would find if he hadn’t. But it still wasn’t enough. The Templar Order was more aware of it all; everything was spared even from their brothers. Low-ranked enemy provided little use, some none at all. 

The force that drove him was different now; maybe it was the reason why he felt no desperation. His mission was to himself. The atonement of his soul. He carried the same worries, finding the man who was responsible for all this and making sure that in this process nobody dies in vain. Elise was out there, following the same leads with an unchanged motive. She was ready to die but Arno wasn’t. A world in which you got revenge by the price of your life was pointless and he applied the same logic for losing friends too. 

On the other side of the story, Marianne was working hard. Cafe Theatre was overflowing and lack of quality sleep affected her deeply. She fought with it, not wanting to look sloppy from the second day. It came and went in waves, while she served between tables she felt okay; but on the breaks she found herself resting her eyes. 

\----

Opening the door, she was surprised to find Arno standing, lighting the candle. Five days of sharing this room, it was the first time he was there before the sunset (and before her). Well, almost before sunset. 

He turned to the door. “You’re late.”

“You’re early.” She closed the door, facing him. “There’s a massive crowd on the way back. Everyone was screaming “murder”. Had to take another road.” She explained while cleaning  
herself.

“Some fanatics, I believe. Overheard some people on the street.”  
  
“You _can’t_ even say one less trouble.“ She wouldn’t defend any murder but many times she wanted to see fanatics dead too. They caused so much trouble, and she couldn’t think of any solution to their violence other than death sometimes. Even so, she was right not to justify the slaughter, as this case proved. Even in death, they caused commotion. “What on earth happened to get you here this early?”

“I finished up my work early.” Arno reached to his pocket and pulled something small. “There’s something I want to give to you.”

Her eyes grew wider, reflecting the candlelight. Seeing her shocked, almost stunned expression cheered him, but he managed to hold his laugh back.

“No.” She took a few steps towards him.

“Won’t you try?” He attempted to grab her hand but she jerked it away.

“I thought we would discuss at the end of the week.”

“It doesn’t matter, you’ll take it with you.”

“Arno!” She gasped at his nonchalant reaction.

“What? You’ve seen how they react to a dog! A miniature dog! Imagine what they’ll do if they found out.” His voice got quieter and quieter as they knew the walls weren’t reliable to keep the sounds in. “Don’t think, just put it on.” She didn’t pull her hand away this time. Her skin was cold against him because of the water she had used to clean. His hands were calloused, rough against hers. She didn’t mind it, she had her fair share of work that wasn’t easy on hands. “You don’t have to wear it all the time. From this door to the street. Flash it in Madame Justine’s eyes a few times and we’ll have no future problems.”

“I don’t ‘flash’ my stuff.” She whispered in frustration. “Fine. But if we can’t work this out- in any alternative, you take it back.”  
“As you wish.” He happily agreed.

She brought her hand closer to the flame, wanting to see it in a better light. It was, by all means, not a simple ring. Intricate gravings laced its elegant width and the small gemstones, carefully placed, glimmered in every moment she made. It was the perfect size for her finger. She was dazed; partially because of the beauty of it and partially because Arno had gone for such an exquisite piece for a fraud.

Arno watched her expressions as she studied the ring. She had a different soul. Many would jump on this quest without hesitation and questions but not Marianne. She was sensible, did the math and logic in her head, questioned and did not fall for the charm of any of it. She saw something hidden and was aware of it every second. How could anyone reject a ring like this in these times, in this state of the country? She had a code and was putting effort to follow it.

And there was the fact that she was also oblivious to all the massacre happening in the templar- assassin war. It had been so long since he had met someone that wasn’t covered in the blood. This room, her presence, it felt like fresh air, a comfort zone.

“Thank you, Arno. You didn’t have to go for this much.” It wasn’t sarcasm, it was humility.

“As you remember, I said I’d buy you something better, wife.”

She rolled her eyes but joined his laughter.

They ate in mostly in silence, she asked him how his work was and he asked about the cafe. Plain questions with plain answers. Their not-so-smalltalk grew over the cafe and the city with the wine he had been hiding inside his suitcase. They were both tired and dreamed of going to sleep early, but the exchange was so engaging that neither of them wanted the leave the table. He seemed to know the place in detail. She was the one to talk generally, he knew how to direct a conversation enjoyable for both sides and she never felt like she was boring him. A handful of times she tried to make him speak, tell his narrative of the day, but somehow that never happened. As the alcohol mixed to her blood, she was getting less and less oppressive about that anyway.

When she got up to prepare her bed, the sofa, for the night, Arno disrupted. “What are you doing? It’s your time in bed.”

She scoffed, holding the pillow and the blanket lazily. “ No, it’s not. How much of it did you drink?”

“Ha-ha.” Clearly not sober, but his reason wasn’t all gone. “You call last night a decent sleep?”

“You know it wasn’t.” 

“So? It’s still your turn on the bed.” 

“It was my turn and I used it.” He stopped her by grabbing her wrist. This time her skin was hotter due to alcohol. His strength was remarkable, but she knew he meant no harm. 

“Take the bed, please?” He smirked, half-lidded. He was tired and drowsy as she was.

Honestly, with the intoxication they had, this could go on forever. He would probably sit in the middle of the sofa, legs spread as possible to cover more ground. She would sneak up in an uncomfortable position to the side, challenging him _or maybe she would lie as nothing was happening, putting her head in his thighs and curling up or maybe she would sit on his lap and they would fall to the floor in embarrassment…_

No! Her cheeks would have flushed more if it was possible. 

“One condition. You’re coming too.” After all he had done; ring, papers, last night… She trusted him. Her conscience would keep her awake if she let him sleep there.

“Now who’s the one to drink much?” He let her hand, suddenly realizing the grip.

“I’m not implying anything besides sleeping.” She slurred but was dead serious. “After everything you have done, there’s no way I’m going to let you spend the night in that damn sofa. The bed is big enough.”

“Are you sure?” He wanted the make sure she was the one speaking, not the wine.

“Yes.”

Getting the stuff back to bed, they rid of their clothes, looking at opposite directions. They never turned back to face each other, not even after they were in bed. Two edges of  
the bed were occupied, leaving plenty of space between but none used nor noticed it.

“You’d make a great husband.” That courage came from the wine tho. She meant it, but would never say it in clear head. Maybe later, but definitely not today. And definitely not while  
they were in the same bed.

He scoffed. “I’m not sure if I’m exactly meant for it.” There were many things she didn’t know. If she did, she would probably run, as fast as her legs were able.

“You’re here at the end of the day.” You care, work for common share, you don’t forget… “It’s more than most people have.” 

\---

When she woke up, she was facing the other way, face down. On the other edge of the bed, maintaining last night’s distance Arno was sleeping on his back, peacefully. She  
was never a fan of staring at people, it made her uncomfortable to look at someone’s eyes for long. Faces around her didn’t change that often, and day by day their features set in her  
mind anyway. But now she couldn’t take her eyes away. It was the first time she had a decent look at him; at his long lashes, strong cheekbones, the thin red scar on his left cheek,  
slightly open lips, defined Adam’s apple… A handsome face void of any emotion. 

As the familiar discomfort unveiled itself, she knew she had to get up. With as little movement as possible, she rolled out of the bed. She never had to do that before, being quiet. Maybe she should be waking him up too.

She poured some water into the sink and washed her face. The benefit of healthy drinking, she felt no headache or disorientation. On the contrary, a small groan was heard  
when she was drying her hands with a towel. No need for alerting anybody. He got up slowly, face hanging from his neck as if he was still asleep.

“Good morning.” She said while hanging the towel.

“Good morning.” He replied, voice dry. It was amusing to see him…off. He was always on his right mind with his devilish plans and witty comments. _Liquor did him no good_ , she deducted.

He followed the same path and out of respect she averted her eyes. She had never caught him peeping, it was only normal to pay him the respect he deserved. Even though all his mysteries, his attitude toward him was always well mannered. It made her trust him in no matter what. Doubtless, the position they were in treacherous, she was faking a marriage with a stranger and if revealed, it would cost her more than him. But in that said process, the harm that was done wouldn’t be his doing, she knew. It was a strong bet, but she just knew it was true. At least her gut told her that.

Splashing some cold water to his face, _the towel smells like her_ , he noticed. His eyes searched her as a reflex. Seeing her getting dressed, he cursed at his impulses and shut them up for a second to collect his thoughts. He distracted himself by clothing.

“So, does your job starts when you want it to?” She asked, her curiosity was undeniable.

“No-“ The creed valued discipline and a strategy for work and being expelled changed none of that work mind- He realized he was making excuses. “Yes, I guess you can say that.” It  
was okay as long as he got what he wanted for the day, time and place irrelevant.

His denial was entertaining, but she didn’t push much. “Madam Justine said she does the laundries on weekends. Do you want me to give her your stuff too? I saw your shirt in the  
closet, its cuffs were dirty from the ink I think.”

What she had mistaken for ink was actually deep, dark blood. Poor light and the stain being old had led her to that conclusion.

He let out a sigh, what he was about to say was a bit suspicious and creepy.

“This is a bit odd, but can you do it yourself? That kind of ink comes out best with white vinegar.”

She was taken aback for a second at his request, it was more than odd. “White vinegar is for bloodstains.” She said, as reading it from an encyclopedia. Putting two and two together, something clicked and her lips formed an o-shape.

“Our friend with the papers needed some convincing.” He raised his hand to calm her. In reality, no man was helping with the papers, Arno had simply stolen some documents and “borrowed” a seal. The blood on the shirt belonged to a low-ranked templar, who had provided some use to his plans.

She looked up to his hand. His knuckles were bruised lightly, it was surprising she hadn’t noticed it before. She pressed her lips together. A mixture of thoughts ran through her  
mind. Should she agree? Was he always like this, making his way through violence? What were his limits? Wouldn’t this path bring more trouble?

“Okay. “ She said with a cold voice. She was just returning favors, not being his partner in crime. “I won’t always do it, though.”

“I know you have questions.” He could imagine. “But thank you for doing this.”

“Just be sure not to bring trouble.” She left the room in hurry. 

He wanted to explain it all, hoping it would make sense and she would see reason. If he got to know her true self just a little, he was sure that she would at least understand this all. At the same time, he wanted to keep her far away. This wasn’t her fight, it would only be a burden for her. Their relationship was only defined by the moment they were together, maybe she wasn’t going to be there tomorrow. Even so, the answer was decided and stable, the logic and the impulses crowded his mind.

\---   
Saturday. It was expected to be a busy day, the busiest of all week. Play after play took place, tables never stood empty for more than a minute and many customers were on their feet at the bar. Buzzing of the crowd, scent of beer and charm of actors filled the atmosphere, making it impossible to escape. From time to time even Philip was at the saloon, watching the stage. It was tiring, but the excitement of the audience was contagious and she found herself smiling when they guggled. Marianne returned just a little bit late, feeling the liveliness still. She knocked on the door to ask when Madame Justine was washing the clothes. In the morning was the reply. On her day off, she had to get up early. And if this was not enough, her period had decided it was the time. Luckily Arno hadn’t returned yet, so she could prepare herself in privacy.  
\---   
Then, another week went smoothly. They never talked, like they said before. Her stained shift went with his shirt to be washed. No questions were asked because nothing was noticed. Madam Justine made “funny” comments about her situation. “You know how to solve that problem? With a child.” She laughed about it all day long while all Marianne could do was to blush and try to stay calm.

The rhythm was effortlessly in motion. They put empty jugs to the hall and retrieved a full one, sometimes with new candles and towels. Seeing that it could be done, they shared the bed every night. She would wake up at some point, finding their arms slightly touching, feeling that warm connection. A strange feeling would start to coil inside her, not uncomfortable but strange. He would sometimes wake up too. The smell of linden radiated off of her, her bare arms ignited from inside against the mild air of September. 

They talked. She had unraveled her life into his hands in a week. How she lived with her previous boss’ family, how she liked reading books that were in that house or the way they spent their nights, playing cards or rolling dices. Sometimes she would help the lady with embroidery or sewing, while father and son did finance. When the bottle of wine was on the table, she would give more details. The stories he told too, how life was in Monsieur De La Serre’s estate (without giving a name), how Victor would cheat on Pharoh and the time he lost his father’s watch, how his mentor treated him and the time when he was away with little alterations. She was content, content with him sharing and the fun she had on those times.

Then, in the next Sunday morning, Arno woke up to find her under his arm. In the first few days of sleeping together, they were practically centimeters away from rolling onto the floor. Day by day they explored their personal spaces and got closer. Maybe it was because of the cold night or nature’s law to draw bodies together. She was lying face down, close enough for him to feel her warmth and scent and her back, rising and falling with each breath. Arno had captured her basically, pinning her down under his arm. Her heartbeat and breathing were slow, meaning she was still asleep. Tenderly, he lifted his arm. A small whine escaped from her lips, possibly a reaction to the sudden cold.

She stirred awake as he got out of the bed. She didn’t know why it felt this cold. Was she lying literally in the middle of the bed? Glimpses of feelings flashed through her mind. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night in that position, but she was too drunk to move and he didn’t protest it. Was his arm around her back then? Yes, it was, but her mind was too hazy to shove it away or to withdraw to her side of the bed.

Avoiding eye contact and interacting as little as possible, she threw herself out of the room to wash clothes.   
\---  
After the laundry, she came back with a disturbed face.

“What’s wrong?”

She looked up for a second, meeting with his eyes before diverting them. “Nothing.” She casually turned, sat on the bed to hide her face.

“Marianne?” The way he said her name, it only made things worse. “Tell me.”

Marianne turned to him, pulled her legs under and massaged her forehead. “It’s Madame Justine. She has been making remarks about, uh, about…” She didn’t know how to put it on words. “About us.”

“About us?” Arno looked confused, she really had to say it.

“Our bed…habits.” She raised her head to look him in the eye but diverted again.

“I honestly don’t understand.”

“Children!” She screamed, “Marital bed! Mon Dieu!” Blood flushed to her cheeks. He seemed to amused, she wanted to punch him for pushing this to the edge. He knew what she meant.

“How exactly does she do that?”

“Fuck off, Arno.” He was clearly making fun of her. She let herself to the bed, covering her face with hands. 

“Marianne, you know you must tell me.” For the stability of the lie they created together, she understood that. And he was actually curious, how the woman that knitted behind and smiled  
to everyone could make such comments?

“Mon Dieu.” She rose, once more sitting in the bed. He was sitting in the chair, placed near the end of the bed so they faced each other.

She fixed her gaze at her hands, making meaningless gestures as speaking. “Whenever she catches me alone, she rains down questions about “our marriage”. Asks about our plans for the future like “how many children do you want” or if I prefer boy or girls, then saying it doesn’t matter because I’ll have plenty of both, that I’m young.” She looked up and saw him focused, listening without a smirk. “Sometimes she’s so direct, saying we don’t have to be that silent or asking how does the bed doesn’t creak, or asking if you make me happy.”

“Am I?”

She grabbed the pillow behind her, swinging it in full speed towards him, but it didn’t even make his strong, laughing figure flinch. She let herself backward again, diagonally across the bed. She heard the chair scraping the floor but she didn’t open her eyes. Only after feeling the bed shift slightly, she peeked.

“Then we do it.”

“Not funny.”

“But I mean it.”

She bolted upright, ready to leave if the situation had it. _Surely he didn’t genuinely mean it, right?._ Before the insults left her mouth, she waited for him to continue.

“I mean we can make some noise.”

“Explain.” It was somewhat challenging to swallow all the words she had been thinking to say.

“I- I don’t know, the floor creaks at every move, so does the bed. Let me hear your impressions about erotic sounds.” _All that time with De Sade had finally started to show its effects._

“No.” She spat. 

“Okay, we’ll work with what we have.” He didn’t pressure more, he had done a great job with the jokes every time he got the chance and it was enough.


	5. An Eventful Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much happens in a room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay, I tried my best to make it on time but my classes started and take most of my time. Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy my mess. Feedbacks are much much much appreciated, don't be shy to leave kudos and comments, I promise to take my time to answer all your questions.

“This is ridiculous.” She said as she watched the room from above, standing on her feet on the bed.

“It is, but it is a good plan.”

She shifted her feet, testing the movement. “Why do we need a plan anyway? I can live with constant nagging.” 

“If they decide they’re not satisfied with our play or get suspicious after a while, the nagging won’t stay as just nagging.” Arno didn’t know when he would reach his goal, it would at least take months. He had to ensure there were no obstacles if they would stay here, together.

 _Just like when you were a child,_ Marianne thought to herself as she started jumping. She bore only for a minute to this madness.

“Why am _I_ doing this?” She questioned his part.

“Because if I jump on that bed it’ll break.” _Nice point. She really didn’t want to imagine what contribution he might have._

“And isn’t it suspicious that we “do it” on the same she made jokes about?”

“Trust me, we would be lucky if half of it is heard. You step light.” 

She let out a sigh and jumping continued. Small twirls to right and left, some big steps, some small ones… With closed eyes, it was almost fun. 

“You can't watch me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s impudent.” .

"Well, I wasn't thinking of it but you gave me the idea." 

She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

“Thanks.” He propped it against the armrest of the sofa.

“Why do you have to be such a bastard?” She muttered.

“I didn’t know you were a sweary person.”

“I’m not. You’re making me.”

A few minutes passed in silence, Arno was scanning some documents, searching for clues about his next target, La Touche and she was starting to feel tired.

“How long am I supposed to do this?”

“One second.” He was too focused to comprehend any words that came from her, as the words he read revealed significant details.

She puffed and continued. As time passed she founded it difficult not to think about what they were faking, her face getting red. She didn’t know whether to be thankful for their little interaction during this time or be furious about putting his plan to action while he did nothing. Then again, she didn’t want to think of any contribution that came from him, her face getting even redder at the thought. 

“Got him.” Arno cheered, folding the paper and putting in his pocket for safety even though he had already memorized everything he needed to know. “You can –stop now.”

“Really?” She chose to be angry at his reaction, just for the sake of having some fun herself while he was the one distressed. “I think I’m simply having too much fun. “ She pushed herself against the mattress, not stopping. 

He was taken aback at her attitude but played the game. “Playtime is over, matmazel.” 

“No!” She let out a few screams as he approached the bed and tried to sabotage her. She was fatigued and her concentration was divided, holding her skirt up with one hand as with the other balancing herself, trying to dodge his assaults. 

He managed to grab her free hand and pulled her. Feeling his arms wrapping around her thighs, she fluttered her feet in the air and let another series of small screams. With the unexpected loss of balance, she was practically hanging over his shoulder. He slowly placed Marianne on her feet, a victorious smug on his face. She narrowed her eyes, this didn’t go as planned.

“The screams were lovely.”

“I’m never doing this again.”

Marianne woke up with a thud, falling from the bed. After last night, she had slept on the edge, as far away from him as possible. Hitting her head on the floor, she placed her hand to where pain emanated. 

“Ouch.” Her voice was scratchy. She didn’t get up immediately, enjoying a second before getting ready for the day. She laughed at herself, this was so silly of her, last night’s event was silly, their whole little roleplay was silly, _her heart which didn’t stop hammering her chest for a long time last night was.. not silly…_

Scanning the room, she realized she was alone. There was no trace of Arno, except the tray that stood on the table with a paper attached to it.

_Marianne,_

_Sorry about last night, I know it must be quite disturbing. You don’t have to do it again if you don’t want to, but I think you would like to know that it worked._ _That woman is a devil in disguise, you are a Saint for putting up with her._

_Don’t wait for me, I have business out of town._

_Have a nice day,_

_Arno_

\--- 

It was the beginning of a new week in the calendar, but not a day unlived. It went exactly like before, only faces and topics changing. Marianne was getting to know about her colleagues. How Sarah didn’t like walking in the cafe, that’s why she was behind the counter, moving a few meters only. The only time she wasn’t there was on her lunch break, Adelaide took her place at that time. Also, the raven-haired woman was fearless enough to say “no more” to the drunks. 

Last Wednesday, it was Charlotte who went to help the laundresses, even though there was someone who had accepted to rotate. “I really cannot handle people today.”, she had said before escaping to the garden. 

In last week, four people had come, looking for a job. They were sent to Philip and got rejected. He didn’t want any drastic changes when the master was away; he had already hired new people and made deals with new merchants. As “the chief” Adelaide didn’t evaluate any of them. When Marianne asked why, the barmaid replied how once she used to select the best candidates but after seeing none of them getting hired, she had instructed the girls to send anyone who came to him.

“Where do you live?” Charlotte asked, three of them had met in the bar as people watched the play.

“Uh- near the city center.” Marianne gave no details in order to avoid lying.

“We stay together.” Brunette waved her fingers between herself and Sarah. “Our landlord is raising the rent, so we’re looking for a new place.”

“I don’t recommend where I stay. My landlord is quite pesky too.”

“Hah, sad for you, but that’s not what we’re going to ask. We found a new place already, it’s for three. Do you want to join? We’ll split the rent, it’ll be a very reasonable price. It’s not so close to here, but I guess it’s closer than yours.”

It was a great offer, the kind she would jump on a few weeks ago. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it without saying anything. They had a deal with Arno, how he would think about this? Their lifestyle couldn’t go on forever, it was certain but never discussed. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of leaving Hotel Sardou without a notice.

“Do I have to say something now?” She turned to Charlotte, who was leaving to take orders.

“No, we can manage for a few months together before someone joins us.” Sarah said with a shrug.

The audience roared in synchronization. The level of the sound scraped her ears. 

“ _Mon Dieu_ , when is this going to end?” 

“We’re here for at least two hours.” Sarah tried to console. “It’s not a bad show actually.”

“If only we could watch it in peace too.” Marianne got up, someone was signaling her to take new orders.”

\--- 

The prophecy was right, even though the show didn’t take two hours to finish they were there for the cleaning and making the final share of the profit. 

The moonlight shone on the streets, illuminating nothing. People had retracted from the streets except for the wasted ones, prostitutes on the corners who stood in groups and homeless. Sometimes she saw seemingly normal people as they vanished, turning to sides or an alleyway. A few carriages drove past her, the sound of the horses and wheels echoing. The unease she felt when thinking about this country hit her again. Even in broad daylight, there was no trust between people, no stability, no insurance of any kind. Now, the sky was dark and it was playtime for even more sinister things.

She paced fast, close to the walls and away from crowds. She passed buildings, taking shortcuts and alternate routes if the path she normally took seemed sketchy. She played deaf, not responding to the men who catcalled her, only walking faster. Regardless, they were too drunk to chase.

But not this time. Hotel Sardou was practically two hundred meters away when the trouble began. She collided with a man who was leaving a tavern with a friend. Momentum had thrown her off guard, she stumbled and hardly avoided falling. Their eyes met for a second, that’s when the trouble began.

“Hey, what do we have here?” She didn’t dare to open her mouth, quickly carried on her way and fastened her footsteps but the chase was on. 

“I’m talking to you.” He mocked, following her.

They were close, despite her speed. She started running and turned the corner where she bumped into a new body. This time, it wasn’t a drunk man. The figure was blended well with the shadows, she couldn’t make details but certainly it wasn’t the size of a man.

“Run.” The figure spoke. A woman’s voice. Marianne was stunned, but the woman pulled her from the ground, the smallest hint of red caught Marianne’s eyes before the woman made her way to where she came from.

Marianne ran, ‘til she was in the street where Hotel Sardou was. She could hear yelling, fading away in the distance as she took step after step. Her lungs burnt, her heartbeat at her ears and her whole body ached but she was grateful, worse things might have been happening to her right now if luck wasn’t on her side. She made a mental note to buy a small knife. Why she hadn’t done that before? Maybe the gunshop she had walked in once could sell that kind of stuff too.

That’s when the realization came, her pouch wasn’t on her belt anymore. Frantically checking the pockets of her dress, she whispered in anger. “ _Merde_.” There was no way she would go out and search for it, not after all this.

At least it was the money she had earned today, not her entire saving.

She walked swiftly, her lungs protested. The street was dark like any other but the light from the hotel was distinguishable. She was alone, or she thought for a second, as her eyes caught another presence. She sprinted again, hoping to enter the building before something else happened.

“Arno?” His head was concealed by a hood and his dark-colored outfit provided no clue but the fluidity of the movements was familiar.

“Marianne?” He lifted his head and their eyes met. “What are you doing out in this hour?”

Laughter rose from the room where Davy and Justine lived, accompanied by others. 

“It was a long shift.” She tried very hard to say it without an interruption to breathe as climbing the stairs.

“Were you running?” The discoloration on her face and her heavy panting led him to that conclusion. “Why were you running?”

“Nothing.” Their room was illuminated by the candle he held while Marianne pushed the door open. The new candle lit brighter than ever, enlightening every crevice of the room. 

“I thought you would come later than this.” She said while washing her face. Her skin almost sizzled at the cold water.

“I returned as quickly as I could.” He removed his heavy coat. “I didn’t know you were working late tonight.” 

“Oh, didn’t have the chance to tell you I guess.” She undid her tight braids, letting brown waves fall to her shoulders. It felt relaxing and nearly formed a smile on her face. If only she could lie down, rest her legs and body too. Her heart was returning to its original steady pace and her lungs cried out less and less with the passing time, helping her to forget the panic as well as frustration.

“Is that blood? As turning around, she realized his left arm. The white shirt was cut on the side and the fabric was stained red.

“ _Merde”_. He lifted it while letting a groan in process. It wasn’t a deep wound even though it felt like that. Blood had stopped coming hours ago. The adrenaline on his blood had hidden any pain, he hadn’t been aware of it ‘til now. “It’s fine.”

“How is it fine?” She squealed in disbelief.

“It’s not that deep, just needs cleaning.” He stated nonchalantly. He had been through worse, much worse. Comparing, this was like a training accident. Removing the torn shirt, he soaked a towel, pressing it to the wound roughly.

“How did this happen?”

“Like I said, I just wanted to get here as quick as I could and –I had an accident on the road.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

“That’s the truth. The roads are dangerous, especially in the dark.”

“As if I already didn’t know that.” She retorted, not wanting to be reminded of it

“I knew something had happened!” He looked her in the face with a victorious smirk.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about –what does it have to do with any of this?” If he wasn’t going to say the truths, then why should she say it? 

“You’re a terrible liar too.” 

She tried her best to keep a straight face while yanking the towel from his hand. The harshness in his motions had disturbed her. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

“Aren’t we talking about our days?” He replied, eyes gazing into her face.

She placed one hand above his elbow, stabilizing his arm and with her other hand, began to clean. “I had a long shift and you –I don’t know, fell from a carriage or something? A bad day for both of us then.” She replied, at the same time trying to keep a straight face. The eyes that studied her face was impossible not to notice. “What are you gonna do, follow me next time to prove your speculation?”

“That’s an excellent idea. When do you have a long shift next?”

“You aren’t serious.” Didn’t their relationship disappear beyond this room? What would she say if anyone noticed? She locked into his hazel eyes, hypnotized. Why was she helping him? Why hadn't she left him and accepted her friends’ offer? Why she didn’t press further to her point, demanding an answer? _How did he manage to bewitch her like this?_ “In two days.” 

She put the towel near the sink and pulled her hand back, breaking the contact. The air around them thinned as he hummed, their bodies were so close that she could almost feel the vibration of his chest. _When did they get this close?_

 _“_ I’ll be there.” 

“Arno.” She opened her mouth to talk but was interrupted when his lips collided with hers. He moved his lips slowly and gently, almost testing the limits. She didn’t push back like she thought she would. Maybe there was a reason after all: the trust that came without questions, the times she hadn’t shied away from his touch, letting him get away without answers… She was falling in love with him. Because of that she feared knowing, the possibility of the truth destroying her dream. Who wants to taint the person they love with such images?

She raised her hands, cupping the sides of his neck. Hesitation crumbled at her movement and he pulled her closer by waist, deepening the kiss. Logic left her mind and she was filled with emotions and sensations she couldn't describe, only relishing them as he pulled her impossibly close. The times he had thought about this, her warm skin against his, that relaxing scent filling his nose… It felt better than anything he could imagine. 

She found herself panting for air again and he reluctantly released her, whining at the loss of touch. The sound of heavy breaths filled the room while the reason returned to their minds, shattering the mood.

This wasn’t fair of him, it was wrong and reckless in every way. “I’m- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He whispered.

“Arno, I, I need- some time to think.” Every word hurt to say.

He cleared his throat and took a few steps back, giving her some space. “I’ll go, need to ask for threat and needle from downstairs to fix the shirt.” His words trailed off mid-sentence, leaving her alone as soon as he put on an outfit.

 _Fool. Coward_. She knew how she felt, why didn’t she tell it, why did she push away her chance? She ran her hand through her hair while strolling the room before curling up on the bed like a ball. Unease, rage and bliss traveled in her veins. She tried to form sentences in her head, the things she would say when he walked into the room again. _He would be back in a short time, right?_

\--- 

A few minutes passed. Then it turned into ten minutes, then half an hour, then an hour. Worry sat tight inside her as well weariness, it was all too much, the work, the street, this… She fought with it, refusing to close her eyes to rest. But the bed enveloped her with every second, and the next thing she knew was the darkness.

The creak of the door jolted her awake, she couldn’t have been asleep for much. Rubbing her eyes, she rose, trying to remember the rehearsed words. He seemed the same, only more distracted. 

“Arno?” She called out, drawing his attention.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.” He added, avoiding to look at her. “I’ll take the sofa tonight, you can go back to sleep.” 

“No, Arno… I need to tell you something” She took a deep breath. “I think I have feelings for you, too.” 

His face lit up as his body stunned. Marianne smiled drowsily, patting the bed. He obliged and sat. “Really?”

“Enough to not deny you the bed. I just need you to promise me one thing: try to be honest with me.” She slid to her side and got under the covers. She hadn’t removed her dress and felt too tired to do it now. Her eyelids got heavier too, the need to sleep had overrun her joy that no questions about the time were asked.

With a nod, he followed her steps, getting in the bed quickly. The tiredness was claiming him too, but for now, he was too surprised to sleep. Shyly he threw an arm around her, pulling her just a bit closer.

“Just making sure you don’t fall.” 

She made a noise between a puff and a purr, only moments away from sleep.

\--- 

_The ring!_ The thought clouded her and left room for no other as she woke up the next morning. _The ring was in the pouch._


	6. notice

Hi guys, I just wanted to inform you that the next chapter will be delayed, and possibly later ones too. I've written some pages, but it didn't feel quite right so I'm starting new. My goal is to present a "good" piece of work, rather than sticking to the schedule with something I don't like. So, bare with me as I try to come up with ideas, gotta make you happy before I unleash the angst...   
Thank you all, as always. You really do make me happy, all those hits and kudos and beautiful comments. I'm here if you want to say anything, I don't do commissions but don't be shy to share your ideas or expectations or the scenes you wish to see. This works both ways in the end.   
Stay safe!


	7. In a Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces of a week in Hotel Sardou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm not dead! I really am sorry to be this late, but med school left me no choice... I literally did nothing but to study for last weeks, and between the small pieces of time I had left, this chapter happened. Once again, sorry about all this delay. I hope you like it, (I certainly didn't lol) Thank you for being here tho, it means a lot. All kinds of feedback are always appreciated, don't be shy to leave comments or kudos!
> 
> Ps. It had been more than a year since I played Unity, and recently I realized that I quite literally fucked up the timeline. It should've been around spring in this time of the story, but I wrote it as near winter/late fall for the dark atmosphere. I'm not going to change the story to correlate with the game, I hope you don't mind. Also, on Arno's wiki page a girl named Marianne is mentioned. This has nothing to do with our character, just a coincidence I recently realized. Guess should've picked names more carefully lol.

CHAPTER 6  
The things that happened in span of a few hours… One name off the list, leading to a new name, the impulse which only that had overtaken Arno, her confession, and return of an old friend.  
LAST NIGHT  
Arno had planned to leave the room to take a small walk, when Elise revealed herself, stepping out of the shadows.   
Following the same clues, it was only a matter of time before his road crossed with her and it had turned out that the assassination of La Touche was the last clue she had needed.  
“A lot has happened since we parted ways, I see?” She stood in the middle of the street.  
“Elise.” If he wasn’t so distracted, he would’ve noticed her right away, giving no room to surprise. He quickly made his way towards her then to the shadows, continuing the conversation in private.  
“I knew you hadn’t simply left. It was you, today.”  
“Of course nothing has changed.” He was harsher than he had intended. “I will find Germain and I will kill him. And I’ll do it for my own conscience.”   
“You can’t do this on your own.”  
“I think I’ve proven myself today. We’ve tried to work together once. It didn’t work, Elise, it only brought devastation.”   
“It brought clarity. Opened a new page for you.” She tilted her in the direction of the hotel ever so slightly.  
“It’s not like that.” “It’s- it’s complicated.” He shook his head. “You must have come here with something in mind. What was it?”   
“I’m not criticizing. I couldn’t and cannot give you what you want and I won’t have you under my palm.”  
“Elise, once I thought the world of you and I was ready to do anything with you, for you. But now I see that it was an illusion. I cannot be on your side because you are you. Knowing what you’re willing to risk, I won’t lose another person in front of my eyes.” He turned his back, taking a few steps before her words reached his ears.  
“Robespierre.” Getting a reaction was all she needed. “He’s your next target, isn’t he?”  
“Don’t. This won’t work-”  
“He’s hidden well, even if you find him, you’ll be facing an army. You can’t do this alone.”  
Arno doubted between saying “I’ll take my chance.” or listening.  
“I tried. It’s impossible.” She reassured.  
“How can I trust you won’t put your life out there?”  
“You can trust yourself.” They were both skilled warriors, masters of their creed. With a good strategy, the odds were in their favor. She continued speaking while closing the distance. “Don’t let the past interfere with your future. We stand a better chance, maybe the only one we could ever get our hands on, so let’s use it.”   
He let a quiet sigh, nodding. They shared a history together, despite many things that have changed, he knew trust wasn’t one of them.  
“Meet me tomorrow. Sunrise, at Tuileries Palace.”  
\---   
TUESDAY MORNING  
They stuck to their promises. The sun painted the sky orange, casting a warm hue. It held no power to heat the air, as how the weather was expected during an October morning. There were no people as the eye could see, but that wouldn’t last for long. This was one of many places where people gathered to revolt.  
“So, what’s our plan?”  
“Good morning to you too, Arno.” She didn't mean to be sassy. For now she knew she had to care about diplomacy more than ever, but still after all the struggle to convince him, the way he looked tired made her upset.  
It was a hard morning to leave the bed. While Arno normally had no difficulty in getting up before the sun, but the exhaustion and stress couldn’t find a time to leave his body that night, making him a bit sluggish. Slowly, with aching muscles and heavy eyelids he had gotten up, careful to not disturb Marianne. She was sleeping facedown, her hair almost covering the entirety of her face. She was in the same position as she laid last night, hinting at her exhaustion, too.  
The same rush of feelings hit Arno. This room, the things that had happened here, it was a devise of pure luck and whims, leading to something unforeseen. He felt hope, a sense of relief, and at the same time more pressure on his back, guilt and worry.   
Selfish, he blamed himself. Dragging her into all this, endangering someone innocent, most likely ushering them to despair.   
Was he really selfish, though, he thought too. Life wasn’t just about secret tenets and scheme and bloodshed. His fate wouldn’t end with Germain’s, so was it wrong to love someone? To live? Give them hope and share that hope?  
“The news spread fast among Templars these days and you have just given them a new one. Possibly he will be heavily guarded from now on, more than before.”  
“That can’t be good.”  
“Maybe it isn’t, but it can help us too. He can’t move much with an army around, so we’ll be able to clearly understand if he steps into the sunlight again.”  
“Do we know any other clue, like where he is or his intentions for the foreseeable future?”  
“Nobody does.”  
“Then what the hell are we doing here?” He snapped at the ensuing bad news.   
“Hey, you can’t do this to me.” Elise said with an angry tone that showed her dedication. “I didn’t promise you good news. I had a small collection of clues to investigate, thanks to you half of it is a dead end now. But I’m not accusing you of any of it. I only said if we were together we had a better chance. The nation is tearing itself apart, we don’t need that between us too.” She raised her arms as she continued her words. “I’m not a Templar anymore, but I still got some connections, I can pull one last string. And we will do that today.”  
\---   
Searching every nook and crevice of the room in a futile attempt, the worst doubts were confirmed. She didn’t falsely remember where she had put the ring before, it wasn’t in another dress’ pocket or near the sink, it was in the pouch and lost forever. She felt her heart get heavier as guilt riled up in her throat.  
This wasn’t her fault or negligence and she knew it, if he knew he would too. But still remorse claimed her, losing something she was entrusted with, like a child breaking a precious vase.  
WEDNESDAY NIGHT  
Marianne took big steps, her eyes probing in every direction. It might have been enough to draw attention or straight-up dangerous, inviting her to crash any kind of obstacle. But he had made it clear that he would be here, so she was curious to see where he would turn up from.   
She spotted him not long after, leaning against the bridge’s railings, hood on and alone. Although they interacted little outside of the room, she knew the way he moved in the streets, always so well blended but stern, making him stand out to her eye. He indicated that she was spotted too as he pushed himself forward, making way towards her.   
“You’re really here.”  
“Had doubts?” Arno pushed his hood back, and offered his arm. She took it, making sure nobody saw.  
“No, but you agreed on following me, not escorting me.”  
He laughed, throwing his head back ever so slightly. “How was your day?”  
THURSDAY EVENING   
“You’re late.” Arno stated in a neutral tone as he greeted her.  
“The girls were going to a tailor. I tagged along.”  
“You needed something?”   
“No, but it’s always nice to spend time outside.” She added. “Outside of working too. This place can get awfully boring, you know.”  
He raised his eyebrows, pretending to be hurt. “So you think I’m boring?”  
“That’s not what I said!” She objected loudly while removing her outwear. “Come on, Arno.” She approached him as he played the victim and hugged him tightly. He took the advantage of the closeness to put a small kiss on her lips. Her heart fluttered at the still-new feeling.  
“I’m just worried about your safety.”   
“Don’t be.” She revealed the modest-sized knife.  
“Where did you get that?” He grabbed the steel. “Now I’m even more worried. Do you know how to use it?”   
“There’s nothing to know. I only need the know it’s there with me and show it, it spreads enough terror.”  
“I’m afraid not. Try me.” He readied his stance as she took her time to process the words.  
“What?”  
“Attack me.”  
“Why would I attack you?”   
“Because you’re bored and might as well use this time to learn something.” He provoked her.  
“Okay, okay.” She surrendered. “Just one second.” She pushed the table and the chairs to the right of the bed, forming a bigger space.  
“That’s the spirit.”   
“Shut up.” She put the knife near the sink, which ended his cheer.  
“What are you doing?”  
“You don’t think that I’ll actually risk stabbing you?” She positioned herself.  
“Don’t worry about me.” He tried to be reassuring but all she heard was cockiness. She grabbed the knife timidly. “Hesitation will get you killed.”   
They both plunged forward. She furiously swung the knife around his elevated forearms, dismissing any thought of doubt from both of their minds. “That’s one for me.” His confused face needed explanation. “I dis-armed you.” This was one of the worst jokes she had tell to this day, but couldn’t suppress her giggle. “I cut your arms and then I run away.”   
“That’s clever.” This wasn’t about how to kill a man, it was about self-defense. “Now, try again. Imagine a second person.”  
“I just stabbed a man, they’ll run away.”  
“And if not?” He took a menacing step forward, testing her reflexes. She took a step back, maintaining the distance. Knowing this wouldn’t stop with her pleas, she quickly thought.  
“Arms, again.” She jolted the knife again, causing him to retreat a bit.   
“That wouldn’t possibly work this time.”  
“Shoulders?”   
“Nice, but a great chance of hitting a bone. You’ll end up without a knife.”  
The ribs carried the same risk too. “ If I try to attack his torso I’ll either gut his organs or meet with his ribs.” A small wave of panic covered her.  
“That’s true.” He was trapping her in the corner.  
“Legs!” It would deeply affect the ability to walk, therefore eliminating the possibility of a chase. She swung her arm lowly, the tip of the blade almost touching the side of his thighs as she shouldered him to escape, bumping into the table and causing the apples that stood on it to fall in the process. The escape stayed as an attempt, as he got a hold of her. His chest collided with her back. The knife changed ownership, firstly going to him, then drifting on the floor.  
“Merde.” She whispered a small curse, apples still falling to the floor one by one, an unrhythmic thud, thud, thud…   
“That’s quite-” His remark was cut off by her battle cry, she stomped on his feet, without a spare and used the short moment to slide out of his restraint.   
“Normally I wouldn’t suggest kicking, one can lose balance easily.” He didn’t even sound a bit excited while she was breathing heavily. She still did, throwing a few kicks in the air to hold him back. It worked, only for a moment, and when he lunged forward again, she dodged, getting behind him. How long would he go on like this? Improving, she lifted herself by stepping on the bed and jumped at his back.  
“And don’t forget that I’ll scream.” Clinging on his body, she felt like she had the upper hand, the power to end this. “Yield.” But she didn’t, her small figure and swift maneuvers had gotten her only this far. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Arno moved them in such way that in a blink she was pinned to the floor.  
“I didn’t know you had such fire.”   
She didn’t answer, her eyes fixated on his dangerously close lips, as her chest heaved wildly.  
Knock, knock.  
Their would-be kiss was interrupted by the knock on the door. He got up quickly, lending a hand for her to get up as well. Her hands traced her dress, frantically trying to refine it. Quickly and as quietly as possible they dragged the furniture back, a little bit of the center nonetheless. She stood before the fallen fruits, hoping to cover them while Arno opened the door, smiling.  
“Good night, my dears.” Madam Justine stood there, with suspicion in her face that she couldn’t hide enough. ” She scoured the room while speaking. “We thought maybe you’d join us in our little card game.”Puzzlement ran through her face at the lack of evidence and she tried to compensate by talking more. “Ehm- Davy and I can get bored too, spending the days with each other only.”   
“That’s so nice of you.” Marianne smiled. “We’ll be there in a moment.”   
He nodded, closing the door as the old lady retreated. “What are you planning?”  
“I’m not planning anything, I’m just bored.” She collected the apples from the ground. “Besides, she was really suspicious of something, coming here to check upon us. I think we made some noise.”   
“Possibly.” One night of idling wouldn’t do any harm. “But I do wonder, what’s gotten into you back then?”  
“What’s gotten into me? What’s gotten into you?” She sat, waiting for her cheeks to return their normal skin tone. “I grew up with four cousins, guessed you triggered some memories.” Just like then, as she remembered, the meaningless fights and the ache. “To be honest we rarely had our disputes, it was a loving family, but when we did, it wouldn’t end without someone bawling their eyes out in pain or declaring their surrender. My aunt’s husband, Uncle Auguste never let anyone intervene, not once stopped us. It was an act of encouragement I presume, an encouragement to defend ourselves. Maybe he knew we would end up on our own.” She tilted her head, shaking the memories away. “Anyway, you should be the one telling stories of the past. I want to hear how you learned to fight. Once we come back, of course.”  
\---   
She should’ve seen it coming, the times he had told his memories involving gambling. He was talented, to say the least. Or very lucky in every round. Or cheated. Oh, he cheated. Not by any technical means, but by using the most unheard tactics and confusing others and distracting Marianne, brushing arms, putting his hand on her thigh. All of which she replied by elbowing and kicking under the table, while losing control of her cards.  
“Stop looking at my cards.”  
“Then keep them properly.”   
Trying the same tactic resulted in failure in which he smirked and she sighed. Between all the laughter and engaging conversations, he was never too distracted to keep his cards close. As the glasses were emptied and filled, ambition flowed in the air, manifested by hollering, stomping feet when the round didn’t go well, calling out each other from time to time.  
“Oh, that’s good.” Arno congratulated her, “But I’ve got better.” He revealed his pile of cards, winning once more.  
“I hate you.” She said, pushing the chair back and not joining the next game. And the one after that. And the one after that. She got dizzier as the time passed, almost dozing off at the last round.  
“Guess we’ll call it a night.”  
\---   
After reaching the room, she seethed.“Don’t say a word, I don’t want to hear your voice.”   
He raised his hands in surrender, the signature smug expression in his face making her even more frustrated. Undressing with drowsy limbs, she embraced the soft bed at the first opportunity. Even though her body felt tired, her mind stood awake, not letting herself fall into the arms of sleep. Skimming through today’s memories, she turned to Arno’s side, dedicated to hear his part of the story, any part of it.  
“Tell me something.”  
“I thought you didn’t want to hear my voice.”  
“I changed my mind. Tell me something about yourself.”  
\---   
SATURDAY EVENING  
Marianne came home, wearier than ever. Unusually, the laundries at the cafe had been postponed for today with all the rags piled up high, it had been the most tiring work she had done to that day. Her arm dangled from either side, still hurt at every step she took.  
“Hi.” Arno’s face lit up when she entered the room. His brows furrowed at her state. “Are you okay? Mon Dieu, your hands are freezing.”  
“I’m fine. Just, there was more laundry than normal and it was my shift.” She said, eyeing the bed as he enveloped her hands between his hands in an attempt to heat. She placed a small peck on his cheek, pulling her hands back. “I’m going to sleep.”  
“Won’t you eat something firs-“  
“No.” She cut his words, her fingers fiddling with the straps of her corset.   
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His words went unattended. “You need help with that?”  
She looked up for a second, her eyes widening. “I’ve never ever needed help to remove my dress and I certainly do not now.” She internally cursed to her frozen limbs.   
\---   
“Arno?” It was late hours of the night, too late to be awake. She must’ve been asleep for some time, only to be woken up by the cold that surrounded her. “Why are you still awake?”  
He seemed unresponsive, lost in thoughts, gaze fixed into the flame of the candle. Some papers littered the table, probably he had divulged into work when she was sleeping.   
“Arno?” She called his name again, getting out of bed. The cold air enveloped her even more, but she didn’t care.   
“Hey.” Gently touching his shoulder provided the attention she needed. “Are you okay?” The redness under his eyes was more defined and his posture was distorted, but the thing that worried her the most was the stress on his face, the light behind his eyes was not there anymore. Something dark had taken hold of him, but she couldn’t place her finger at the exact emotion.  
“Marianne.” He snapped back to reality, frowning. “I- I'm fine. Why- when did you wake up?”  
She firmed her hand around his shoulder, encouraging him to speak. “Tell me what’s wrong.”  
“I-I don’t know what’s wrong. Everything goes great, I am in a better position than ever, wiser, powerful, discerning… I know what I am doing. And I know why I must do it, I-I want it too. But, there is something wrong. Is it weariness? Heaviness? Anger?”  
“Fear?”  
“I never feared anything.” He paused. “I know what the future is going to be like, what it will bring. I know which part I will play.”  
“Maybe you fear what’s beyond that?” Marianne understood little of what he was referring to but questioned no further. This wasn’t the time for a query.  
“Life will go on.”  
“But what will it be like, exactly? Arno, I don’t know what all this is about,” She hovered her hand above the papers. “Yet I can see that you work hard on every detail. Hell, you arranged solutions to everything that could ever happen here in just a few days. You have a plan for something, something that will happen soon I imagine, and you live every part of it in your head before it happens. But this is limited. One day it will come to an end. Then you’ll wake up to a day that you don’t know what will happen. Surely, you’ll live the day and sleep again, but you’ll not know the big picture like now.” She tilted her head, thinking deeply. “Then again, it’s life Arno. It is rough. You’ll live, making plans, taking a break between them, pursuing new plans. You’re too strong to let it all go.” She reached out to his hand, urging him to come to bed.  
“You think so highly of me.” They were lying face to face, arms and legs entangled as she tried to gain warmth and he felt better with the closeness.  
She felt exposed, as if he was reading his mind like reading a book. “Don’t you deserve it?”  
He hoped he did. He really hoped he did.


	8. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things can only be kept a secret for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, back from another exam day! I hope you didn't lose hope about here. The schedule is less than ideal, I know that, but I promise I will take this to the end and I would very much like if y'all were here too! As always, thank you for everything, don't forget to leave kudos and comments, they're great, and most importantly, enjoy!

Marianne put down the book she was “reading”, Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. “So, what are you working on?”

“Oh, nothing. Guess the book isn’t that interesting?”

“The usual stuff,  _ to be like the rock that the waves keep crashing over. It stands unmoved and the raging of the sea falls still around it _ . _ ” S _ he recited with a tone that showed her boredom, sliding the book further away. __ “It’s not my fault that I was educated well.” She had read most of the classics in her early years, and not having great access to the latest books, her options were somehow limited. But still, books were books and rereading them in a different context had its benefits. “So, what’re all these papers about?”

“It’s a crime mystery.”

“I didn’t know you were working with the police. What other secrets do you keep, Monsieur?”

Arno chuckled. “Not all the time, they ask for my help on special occasions.”

“That’s not a very normal thing, you know.”

“Who lives a normal life anyway?”

It was her time to chuckle. Nothing was normal in these days, especially in France. “Let’s see if I can help too.”

_ \---  _

It’s should’ve been an ordinary day. It should’ve been a good day with warm weather and lots of celebration, small time-off for everyone. It should’ve been just a regular political fuss. But it wasn’t. None of them were. Riotous seeds were planted, and Marianne had a feeling which many shared, that it would grow quickly, spreading like a wildfire. That creeping sense of gloom was back.

“ _ Mon Dieu _ , you’re here.” She threw her arms around Arno as soon as he walked in. “I was worried sick.”

“Marianne?” He stroked her back gently, giving her time to repose. “What happened?” He asked after she sat down again.

“Don’t you know?” She looked into his eyes. “It’s happening, again. What Robespierre had done will not go down quietly, you can see it even now people are whispering in the streets.” Those whispers would soon turn into cries of protest, she believed. “I know he was no good but I just can’t help the feeling that worse awaits us.”

There were consequences to their actions, Arno knew that. They were a part of this society, this nation too. He would see the reflections of it in the Cafe, in the faces of customers and personnel. He would see it in the smith’s frown, and in the posture of the people he walked by every day.  _ For the ultimate good _ , he would think to himself.  _ It gets worse before it gets better _ . When the ongoing policies only led to worse, it was time for a change, no matter how scary it looked. 

_ “ _ It’s politics. Scandals happen. People move on.” He hoped it wouldn’t happen too soon, though. 

She fiddled with her fingers. “This is different. I can feel it, Arno.” She was letting the pessimism take over her, but this feeling was so heavy. This feeling which she first felt before all this happened, and many times after that.

“It’s going to be okay. Maybe not very soon, but it will. I promise.”

She giggled unexpectedly, even to herself. It was such a childish hope. “How can you promise such thing?” 

“Just trust me.”

_ \---  _

Then the days passed. As expected, some protests took place on the streets, molding themselves between full-blown riots and just a few angry people, yelling and persuading others to join. None of it disturbed Marianne’s daily routine, though. That eased her a bit, but still claimed a great place in her thoughts. She would spend some nights without a word coming from her mouth, only speaking when Arno pointed out that fact. She wouldn’t lift her eyes from the books, not actually reading it. 

“You’ve been standing over that window for an hour now.” Arno sounded worried.

“I’m like a rock that waves keep crashing over.” She laughed softly, trying to distract herself from the flames that lit up the sky, somewhere in the distance. “I don’t like the idea though, being still like none of this is happening.”

“It is an advice about staying strong against the world, not about reacting to it.”

“That’s what the law says.” Corrupt and outdated and misinterpreted as they were, they were still prevailing, judging people and most of the time sending them to the guillotine.

Seeing him worrying about her made Marianne’s heart warm. She cupped his jaw, raising on her tiptoes to place a long kiss on his lips. “Stop worrying, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, because normal people lose the meaning of time to-“

“Oh, shut up!” She patted on his shoulder, cutting his words with another kiss. This time Arno fought back for dominance, pulling her by the waist. She leaned in, closing the small gap between their bodies. Their skins burned against each other. A sweet moan escaped from her lips, and she found herself pulling away for air.

“We should stop.” He whispered, but not letting go either.

“Yes.” She agreed, but the second their eyes met, they both knew that it was not an option.

_ \---  _

“I heard the master was back in town.” Charlotte said.

“Hımm.” Marianne responded, absentmindedly, a great part of her focus was on her work, sweeping the floors.

“Marianne? You’ll be working with the theatre group today.” Adelaide emerged from the kitchen door for a second, gesturing at the crowd of people on the stage. Tonight’s performers.

This wasn’t the first time she was working at the theatre section, for the last few weeks she was requested to do some “tailoring” or helping the actresses get ready, so she nodded and quickly finished her job, joining them right after.

_ \---  _

_ “ _ Oh look, that’s him!” Charlotte urged.

“I don’t understand why you are so in-“ Marianne glanced a look at the direction she jested, losing her words on who her eyes landed on.  _ He... he couldn’t have been Arno, right?  _ But she was well familiarized with his figure, leaving no doubt, and there he was, talking to the intendant. 

“It’s just strange that such a young man being in charge of this place. Well, not exactly like that, it’s Madame Gouze who owns this place but most of the time Madame Gouze doesn’t work, she doesn’t need to. Stranger, is you think because as far as I know they’re not related by blood or work or in any way but this man, decides to invest in this place, bringing life to it. You should’ve seen what this place looked like before, I wouldn’t spend a s-“

_ “ _ You sure that’s him?”

“Yeah, I know, right?” Charlotte didn’t mind the interruption, so it would seem. She took a bite out of her meal. “ _Strange. Very strange._ ” 

They ate in silence. Marianne was perplexed. On one side, it did quite made sense of his part of the story, but on the other formed much more questions.

Through the back door of the stage to get to the hall, she walked. If they were seen, it would cause people to question and gossip, which she felt like she didn’t have the answers anymore.

“Arno.” She whispered out of the corner that couldn’t be seen from the cafe when he was alone. “We need to talk.”

“Hey.”

“We need to talk.” The firmness in his voice was not a good sign. “You have something to explain.”

He agreed, dropping his head low, knowing what it will be about. “Okay.”

“Not now. It’s too risky.” The wait got on her nerves but there was no other choice.

“But you late work tonight.”

“ _Merde_ , true.” The fucking waiting part. “I don’t care. It’s important.”

“Marianne!” It was Adelaide, calling out for her.

“I’ll be waiting outside.”

She nodded, hurrying back to the backstage room.

“Where were you?” Gladly, it was a rhetorical question. “There’s a shortage of actors tonight, we thought of you to fill that gap.”

“What?” Her mouth was open with shock.

“Don’t worry, it’s a very small role. And you’ll get a share from the tips.” The lead actress winked.

“I- I can’t. I know nothing about acting."She objected, realizing how serious they were. "Why me?”

“It’s alright, like I said, it’s a very small part. You’ve seen us practicing, you have a general idea about the play, besides, I have a feeling that costumes will fit you nicely.” 

_ \--- _

As well as it was hard to picture herself in any of those costumes, it was no lie that it fit perfectly like it was her who the tailor had designed it for. But she wasn’t in a mood to appreciate. She cursed to the hours she had spent on this dress without knowing that it was for her; how it suited her body, flowing so smoothly; how the deep shade of green complimented her skin color... Any other time, she could embrace it, even have some fun in all this. _ Wrong time. _

“Come on now, it’s your turn now. Just remember, you’re the Countess’ daughter, someone will try to use you as a hostage to get away, so act scared and throw yourself to the floor when the time comes.”

She nodded, taking hasty steps to the center of the play. A few tables were carried to the stage to create the atmosphere of a ball with the help of actors, who then rushed to their positions, holding empty glasses (she felt left out in absence of one in her hands) and posing. They only had a second before curtains were open again. She felt so out of place, between professional faces who were already acting.

Then the curtains opened, revealing a great audience. All eyes were glued to the stage, not a sound made. 

“Charlatan!” An actor with a deep voice shouted, drawing attention to the point at his finger. “He’s kidnapping Matmazel Solé!” 

The audience gasped as someone yanked her back, the _charlatan_ _.  _ It was such a sudden move that there was no need to act as the air left her lungs loudly, creating a sound of shock almost like a scream.  _ It's why I don't have a glass.  _ Even knowing it was all a play didn't stop _ t _ he adrenaline coursed in her veins, her breath was already accelerated and she trembled from excitement.

_ “See, it looks like a real knife.” The young blonde actor displayed it, turning it all the way around, and slid it along his left wrist with such swiftness that made Marianne jump “But it’s just a wooden toy."  _

_ She took the knife into her hands, examining the colored surface. It was a remarkable piece, the grey paint shone like a real metal, the perfect replica of reality. But the edges were blunt and thick, not capable of inflicting any wounds except some redness; and it didn’t feel as cold as metal would do to the touch. Also, it was way heavier than a fancy dagger should’ve been. _

She waited for the dull surface of the prop at her throat, the warm and hard feeling of it. Instead, she was greeted with ice-cold ingot and its thin edge.  _ It cannot be real. _ Her eyes widened at the feeling, there was something wrong. This wasn’t like anything they’ve rehearsed. The arms around did not belong to the young skinny actor who had given her some space to struggle, for the drama purposes. Instead, they were big and merciless, screaming power over her. She couldn’t help fidgeting, which made the man press the knife just a little bit more. She instinctively grabbed that arms.

“Stay still or I’ll slit your throat right here.”

A chill run through her spine and she left the control to him.

“Oh, Lucille! Someone help my daughter, someone help her!” The lead actress wailed, collapsing into the nearest arms.

_ Yes, help me,  _ she thought. But this was just the play.

“Release Matmazel Solé now you piece of filth!” Another actor shouted, reaching for his sword. At the movement of his arm, they took a few steps back and Marianne tried her very best to accompany his footsteps.

“Stay away.” The deep, dark voice of the man filled the cafe. If this was truly a part of the play, he would get all the credit for that cue. And it was exactly why no one suspected a thing. 

She scanned actors and the audience as much as her eye could do, begging them to understand. All she could see was the thrill in their eyes. The closest tables, the ones that were farther, the people that watched standing on their feet by the windows...

Arno.

There he stood, just outside of the door, talking with a red-haired woman. _ Thank God.  _ But he was so invested in the conversation they were having, not even slightly interested in the stage. She felt tears pooling in her eyes. Gazing into him, she prayed, prayed to be noticed.

“Now, I want you to bring a word of warning to your lover. He’s lost as every one of his kind is, he knows nothing. But we know where he hides, who he talks to, which roads he takes, the people he cares about,” He tugged at her “and we can walk into the heart of the assassin’s any time we want. Tell him all this. Tell him to put an end to his pathetic attempts, tell him that Robespierre knows everything about him, even his future. He has one chance to abandon his work and leave the country. You tell him exactly this, understand?”

Marianne nodded, his words already embarked on her mind.

“And maybe you’ll need a little reminder for all this.”

“No!” She screamed, tugging at his arms and moving frantically, and from the smallest gap, she tore herself from the hold, her knees and hands meeting with the floor. She was almost falling from the stage.

The actors looked at her in shock. This was out of the script, but a magnificent performance too. She turned her face to the man, stuck between screaming or running.

He fled into the curtains and caused another wave of shock upon both actors and the audience. The play was to end with his big speech and face reveal, giving a moral lesson and “heroically” disappearing into the night.

After a few seconds of silence, the oldest actor started a monologue, some sort of narration of the story to the end. Marianne could only hear the turbulent flow of blood in her ears, muffling every sound. A hand helped her up, but she didn’t know who it belonged to. They saluted the audience. She felt sick to her stomach, not wasting any second to leave the stage after curtains fall again.

“What did he think he was doing?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“Where’s he? I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“You’re a natural talent, my darling.”

“Thank God we managed to save it somehow.”

“You sure you can’t join us? You’ll be a star in a short time for sure!”

She barely registered the chat around her. There was only one thing in her mind. She didn’t bother to change or shake the dust away from her skirt, just returning to the main salon.

Arno.

He was approaching the stage. Maybe he had sensed there was something wrong too.

“Are you o-“

“Who are you?” Her tone was cold as her while her face soured. “Who are you, Arno?”

\--- 

“He threw himself from the fucking bridge.” The red-haired woman entered to the room, which was lit by a fireplace. Realizing Marianne’s questioning eyes, she felt the need to introduce herself. “I’m Elise de la Serre. Arno’s,” she struggled for an appropriate word “friend.”.

“I see.” Her words and tone were simple, but as simple as the weather was before the unexpected storm. “I think you may find another body very soon.” Marianne stated. In order to take the young actor’s place, the man had to do something with him. Either he was hidden and tied up somewhere where none could see, or he was simply dead. Killed.

In the background, Arno pressed his fists to the desk, muttering curses.

“I have seen you before, haven’t I?” There could only be so many red-haired agile women out, much like the one she had bumped into that night.

“Yes...” Elise confessed, knowing the bad impression it left. “I was trying to find him for some time, and I was able to narrow down the search to a small area. That’s why I was there, and I found you, too.”

He reached to the top drawer of the desk, retrieving something small and putting it on the small table which stood beside the armchair Marianne sat on.

“I- I didn’t know how to give it back.” The small purse looked exactly like the day she’d lost it. She knew for a fact that the contents of it were the same too.  _ That explains his nonchalantness, the reaction she got when she told him: just a shrug.  _ It was all very comical, but she was far from laughing.

“I’m sorry about all this.” Directly or indirectly, she had a part in all this. She leaned towards her, making sure it was only her who was hearing the words she spoke. " I know that you know the world isn’t all black and white. It’s not always as it seems to be. I know it’s not my place to ask you this, but I’ll ask it of you. Only this: Do not forget that.” Elise left, knowing the two had a conversation to make. 

“I asked you to be honest with me.” Her words were not coated with anger. They had barely begun but she already felt tired.

“I tried. Tried to tell you as much as I could, it was for your own safety.”

“And how safe am I actually?” She scoffed.

“It was to protect you from-“

“From what? Truths? Them?” She could feel her blood boiling again as her voice got louder. “Well, you failed at both.” Her eyes pooled at the memory of the horror of this night, but she didn’t let them escape, taking a few deep breaths.  _ Start from the beginning.  _ “So, your name is Arno Dorian.” She had heard people referring to him as Monsieur Dorian. 

“Yes.” He was pacing in front of the fireplace.

“At the hotel you said it was Victor.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed at the memory of himself doing it. “Victor is my middle name. I guess you can understand why.” 

“You own Cafe Theatre.”

“I run Cafe Theatre.”

“Is this why you advised me to try my chance at Ile de la Cite that night?”

“No, no, I wasn’t thinking about anything like that. It just, came out of my mind I guess. I haven’t been in contact with here then. I only started to get back in business just yesterday.”

She nodded, it was nice to know that she had gotten this job without any influence. But she didn’t feel any different. She tried to think of questions, but they were so many and complicated and she didn’t know how much she didn’t know the exact background of everything. So, there was one thing to do. “I don’t trust you. Hell, I don’t even know if I will ever believe any word that comes out of your mouth anymore. But I need to know who you really are, Arno Dorian. You owe it to me. Tell me everything.”

Arno sat across from her, eyes fixated on the ground. And he told everything.

\--- 

Marianne’s head hurt by the time they returned to the Hotel Sardou. It was very, very late in the night. The trip to here had been silent and it continued in here as well. In the room, there was only the sound of the floor creaking.

Arno had suggested staying the night at the cafe, as a matter of safety and comfort, sparing their tired bodies from the walk but she had refused directly. Sleeping in her workplace? Which belonged to him? It was out of the question. But now, Hotel Sardou didn’t feel any better either. It was impossible to escape memories, and being stuck in this small room with the man who was responsible for all this turmoil... It certainly didn’t help.

“I don’t think they’ll send someone after us, but I’ll stay up just in case. You get some rest.”

She wanted to scoff at his effort for safety while the evidence of his failure stood on her neck, a thin red line. She didn’t think sleep was a choice, despite her weariness. Words littered her mind, making everything harder; to sleep, to think, to decide...

Silence. He didn’t pressure for an answer, knowing that he deserved much less, if such an answer was possible.

Marianne picked up her pillow and the folded blanket from the bed, preparing the sofa. Back to the day they met, close to the door and away from the man she didn’t know.

“Take the bed, please.” He understood her reason, but she wouldn’t get a relatively decent rest and that would be his fault too, and his conscience couldn’t bear the weight of any other fault.

“I ... can’t.” Her voice wasn’t cold or stern, it was tired and heavy. “Good night.” She whispered out of habit.

\--- 

It was just before sunrise when she got up to pack her belongings. She had spent most of the night thinking, and only realized she had fallen asleep at some point when she woke up.

“Please, don’t go. One calm night doesn’t mean it’s safe outside for you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“Do all this sounds so awful to you?” He had always thought that she wouldn’t feel that way, but now he was unsure.

She sighed, looking down. “No. And I understand your reason, your ways. It makes sense.” Her face contorted in pain. “It’s such a shameful turn of fate. If, if you had told me all this under different circumstances, I wouldn’t probably be leaving. It could be okay. It could be good. But it’s not. You deliberately left me in the dark while making me think that you kept your promise. The only thing I’ve asked of you.” She looked into his eyes but couldn’t keep the lock for long. “I am angry, no, enraged and I- I can’t think straight in this room. I can’t think straight when you’re next to me.”

“I think you’ve already thought it all through.”

She didn’t reply. It was mostly true and more thinking wouldn’t possibly lead anywhere better, but cutting all the ties to this life, this room, him; wouldn’t stop her. It was a new world, and while many didn’t know, it changed the course of history. How could one learn about such things and doesn’t let it occupy his attention?

She pulled the ring from the old pouch, placing it on the table, next to the books.

“Won’t you take your books?” The fate of the ring was decided long ago, there was no point in protesting that.

“I think they’ll be a lot helpful to you more than they did to me.” 

There was one last thing to do.

"Thank you for your hospitality." She left the pouch at the front desk and threw herself out, without giving Madame Justine a chance to speak.


	9. All That We Are, All That We Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens in a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh? What is this? Has it been a month yet?   
> Just kidding.  
> First of all, this is not the finale! Well, if you really wish that hard you may accept this as a finale but in fact I'm planning to end all this in the next chapter, so stick around?   
> I don't think I show my best in this chapter. The plan was to write more scenes of them together but when tried it all sounded so, so patchy that I decided not to include those. I hope this is enough to give some general sense about them and doesn't sound too superficial, feel free to ask for details or share your scenarios perhaps. As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated, enjoy!

Marianne didn’t see Arno the next day. It was a relief on her side; a small, undisturbed day to pull herself together a little bit, not wanting to raise any suspicion.

She also didn’t see him the day after that. Well, technically she did. It was early in the night, some time after sunset. The cafe was unusually empty, staff outnumbering the customers. The riot had grown larger than ever, all of the city was on the edge. Many littered the streets, demanding Robespierre dead, or locked themselves in the relative safety of their houses. There was little exception to that: workers like her, people who had nowhere to go, and the ones that had lost the meaning of fear or reason. Philip and Adeliade were discussing whether to call it off for a few days while everything stilled, and the rest chatted away, simply out of nervousness.

“I can’t thank you enough, accepting me to your house even though you had already found someone. Promise, I’ll find somewhere as soon as I can.”

“Oh please, stop thinking like that. I’m glad you’re staying with us right now.”

“No need to rush, you’re welcome as long as you wish.” Sarah encouraged, not wanting to think about what’s going on in the streets. It wasn’t a good time to be alone.

Marianne shook her head, a weak smile on her lips. Then her eyes met with Arno’s, as he took long, hasty steps at the main hall. The world seemed to freeze, only a small falter at his movement, her fading smile...  _ Not today, please not today...  _ One day, one day they would be able to be around each other, find the right words, right time, right circumstances. But today wasn’t that day. He hurried, Elise following shortly, and Marianne snapped her head in the other direction, trying to chat more.

That night, Robespierre was arrested. He couldn’t see the next night.

\---

_ “Hasn’t this country bled enough?” _

_ “I’m only trying to stop it.” _

_ “Yet you contribute to it. How do you know you’re on the right side of things?” _

_ “Because I lived in both of them. They killed my father, then Monsieur de La Serre, and the person I trusted the most betrayed the very tenants he thought me! I know who the real enemy is. Who the real culprit is. It’s not only Templars or Assassins. Don’t you want justice? Stability? Don’t you want peace for all, for your aunt and her family? The revolution took many lives, I just want it to end as soon as possible and redeem my mistakes. If you had the power, the means to stop this all, wouldn’t you?”  _

\--

Marianne and Arno saw each other after that day, just like the last time. This time, it was a little longer and accompanied by a nod. It meant nothing but a silent acknowledgment of each other, a sign of respect between them.

She found a place. With all the chaos rummaging the nation, landlords didn’t turn down any client, desperate for money. It was a small room, just like Hotel Sardou, except for the single- size bed and a bathtub. It was on the other side of the Seine, but she didn’t care, as the distance was quite the same.  _ It is lonelier _ , she thought, but couldn’t think of a person to be with her in that room. _ Get used to it.  _

TWO DAYS LATER

“I can close the Cafe today.” She leaped into the conversation. Apparently, Adeliade had some business to deal with, and as Charlotte and Sarah left at the same time because they lived together, Marianne seemed like the perfect candidate for the job. As long as they trusted her, she didn’t mind leaving late.

“Thank you.” Adelaide said as she handed the keys.

So, that’s why she was alone in the cafe, sweeping the floors and placing chairs on the tables, when noises echoed outside of the saloon. She straightened her posture, unsure to leave the broom or to hold it close, head extended to the hallway just enough to see.

In the middle of the long corridor, he stood, clothes looking like hadn’t been changed for days, shoulders slouched, face looking down.

“Arno?” She called out, propping up the broom against the wall. 

He turned his head towards the voice. His cheeks and nose were red, along with his bloodshot eyes. Darkness under his eyes marked some sleepless nights, and his hair was disheveled. But none of them was worse than the expression on his face, conforming something very, very, very bad. He opened his mouth to speak, but no word came out of his dry throat.

She ran through the distance between them, throwing her arms around him as the first sob escaped from his lips.” Elise... She’s... I couldn’t...” All of the sentences were unfinished, but they were enough. A single tear traveled down her face, then another, as two fell to the floor on their knees, one crying loudly and the other silently. She just held him tight as his body shook with each sob, her back against the cold wall. He murmured somethings from time to time, though any of them barely meaningful. His words choked up with his hoarse voice, and it was obvious he wasn’t thinking before speaking. It was only around down he calmed.

“You can’t sleep here.” She urged his limp body, guiding him upstairs. Only a small gesture towards a door was his only reaction and that’s what all she needed.  _ His room.  _

Marianne wasted no time looking around, even though this was her first time in this room. She sat him on the bed, helping him to remove his coat and weapons before tucking him in. Bringing some food and a glass of water from the kitchen, she placed the tray on the bedside table. Even in sleep, the pain still hadn’t left his face and there were some new scars in his skin, illuminated by the rising sun. She closed the curtains to block the light.

“I need to go now.” She whispered, well knowing that he didn’t hear. “I’m sorry.”

\--- 

Go home, change clothes, get back to the Cafe... It was a livelier day, not as much as usual but still livelier. She got to check up on him only once, in the afternoon. He hadn’t moved an inch. The tray stood in the exact spot, as well as his clothes. She quickly returned downstairs, hoping her actions were unnoticed. They were.

After everyone left, she climbed upstairs once more, finding Arno awake. He seemed slightly better, well, at least cleaner.

“Hey.” She let herself into the room.

“Hey.”

“How are you?” She immediately bit her lip for asking that,  _ of course  _ he was not okay. “Arno, I’m so, so, so sorry...” Hugging him, she said and felt his body stiffen. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Thank you.” He hesitated. “Can you stay for some time?”

She nodded, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “When did you wake up?”

“A few hours ago.”

“Good.” He needed that sleep. “Did you eat?”

“Not really.”

She opened her mouth to disapprove but decided to spare him. “Let me bring something from the kitchen.”

He followed silently. No objections were leaving her mouth. She was familiar with Cafe’s kitchen, not the house’s so she took her time to prepare food, discovering where which supplies were.

_ Pop _

She saw Arno with a freshly opened bottle of wine as he drank, not bothering with glasses or whatsoever.

“I don’t think you should-“ Yes, he shouldn’t, but it was expected. She understood his wish to numb himself. And perhaps it was better this way, he would get what he wanted and she could stop him before he started to hurt himself. “Please, just eat something first then you can have your way with alcohol. For me.”

The food he ate was barely enough to stop his stomach from protesting, but Marianne didn’t insist further.

They sat across the fireplace in silence. She was reluctant about asking anything despite her curiosity, fearing triggering bad emotions.

“Moments before his arrest, Robespierre told us where Germain was...”

So she listened. The Temple. The guards. Germain. Sword of Eden. Crypt. The piece of marble that pinned him to the floor. Elise’s choice. The feeling of emptiness he felt as he pushed the blade to the man’s throat. The small burial at De la Serre estate. Her grave next to her father’s, just sitting there, forever reminders of his failure. If only’s and regrets. She held her comments to herself, letting him tell whatever that was on his mind, feelings or memories; crying and sometimes laughing with him.

“You did everything you could.” After hearing the whole story, she broke the silence.

“And it wasn’t enough.”

She shook her head sideways. “Hey, look at me. It was his choice. You hear me? Her choice. You don’t get to take the blame like this.” 

“But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead.”

“No, it doesn’t.” These small, simple words were so heavy that they could only leave her lips as a whisper.

She let him tear up once more around her arms, trying to soothe him by stroking his back...

“Can you stay the night?” His voice was loud enough just the reach her ears and it sounded like a prayer, a final wish.

It was risky. Improper. Made everything more complicated. But it didn’t mean much to her.

“I swear I won’t t-“ He misunderstood the pause.

“I’ll stay.” She held his hand and didn’t let it go ‘til morning.

\--- 

(10 DAYS LATER)

Day by day, everything seemed to get better. The tension in the country had started to calm down, leaving its place to speculations and hope. Cafe Theatre even hosted a few plays in the last week, most of which were political satires. It was the way of life, laying things open and normalizing them.

She tried her best to visit him, but it didn’t always happen. She saw him every day though, as he discussed work with Philip, lots of papers scattered between them. He tried to attend to one of the plays but left in the middle of it. She even saw him once as he was practicing with a young man in the big saloon upstairs, their chest heaving and hairs stuck to their foreheads. The fluid, sharp moves would worry anyone, but she knew both of them were skilled swordsmen, so she left before distracting them. 

Being the one to close the cafe that night, she was once more alone after burying herself in work, making sure everything was clean and ready for tomorrow. One last thing to do now. 

“You look better.” Marianne stated from the door.

His smile was the strongest it had ever been lately. “Working... helps. Turns out I have a lot to do.”

“Try not to overbear yourself.”

He chuckled, pushing the chair backward. “Won’t you stay?”

“I wasn’t planning to...” Seeing the drop in his face, she tilted her head to the side. “Is there something you wanted to say?”

“Uhm-no. Nothing important.” He managed to get lost and come back in his thoughts in mere seconds. “Good night, Marianne.”

“Good night.” She turned to leave. It was predictable, what he was thinking about and while they both wanted to talk about it, it simply wasn’t the right time. 

He ran behind her back, catching her by the marble staircases. “Why are you here?”

She furrowed her brows. “Because I care about you.”

“As what?” With the small glimmer of hope on his face, he looked so frail.

She didn’t answer, hiding her face. “This is not a good time.”

“There is no such thing as a good time.” He caught her arm before she could leave. “I know that now. Please, I want to hear.”

“You already have a lot to deal with.” 

“I’ve got to learn to live with it, right?”

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the irony of reversed roles. “I’m sorry. For everything, I said that night. It- it wasn’t fair.”  _ Mon Dieu, it really wasn’t a good time.  _ “And I am so ashamed.”

“No, I deserved it all, knowingly dragging you into-“

“No! You don’t understand. I blamed you for things that weren’t your doing while being perfectly aware of it. I blamed you for holding the very power I once wanted to have, and told you to change your ways.”

“You were angry and had every right to be.”

“Yes, I was and I had.” While he wasn’t the one to threaten her with a knife upon her throat, he was the reason. But it was an unpredictable turn of events, even if she knew there was little that would’ve changed. “But I was also angry at myself and reflected it to you.”

Arno was confused.

“I was angry at myself because I couldn’t stop loving you.” It was a slow realization. At first, fury was all she felt. Then, understanding came as he unraveled his life. She insisted to see the moral and legal part of the story, trying to cut this life out. It proved useless. He was a good person and she knew it. A good man who had lived with her in that small room of Hotel Sardou, who had helped her to change the sheets and shared her dinner, a good man who made her laugh and cared and respected and loved her. A good man she loved back. 

He closed the distance between them, capturing her in a kiss. Their touch was fire, ignited more with every second that passed. Her hands were placed on his shoulders as the fabric wrinkled under her touch and his hands traveled up her back. How could this feel so good in the most troubled times, under grim circumstances? She pulled herself back ever so slightly, just enough to give her a space to talk.

“You’re not on your right mind.” 

His hands dropped back around her waist and lifted her, spinning with such ease. “You kidding? I’ve never felt better.”

“Put me down!” Her screams turned into waves of laughter soon, joining his. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” He asked again, their foreheads pressed together.

“While there are no roommates to question about my comings and goings, I still would like to not to draw the attention of my landlord.”  _ Go back, take a bath, get your rest, stay low and take things slow.  _ “We have short shifts on Saturday, I can stay after that if you want.”

“And the whole Sunday.” A small shift in his direction, as if he was going to repeat his action.

_ Here goes the slowness.  _ “Okay, okay! Now, will you please put me down?” 

\--- 

They’re happier. 

They exchange smiles during plays when no one looks, playing some sort of hide and seek game, them against everyone at the cafe. He walks with her as she goes home, usually at very, very late hours. They read books together, or it starts as reading then turns into long discussions. Or hours silently pass, both of them unaware of the time. They play cards (she wins every now and then!), tell stories (even the ones they told before) and explore each other’s bodies (there’s nothing new, but every time they do it feels new.)

They’re trying. 

His nightmares sneak up in most unexpected times, even though it happens less and less by each day, it still happens. He sometimes finds himself looking at the same page of the ledger, reading over and over again but none of the numbers or records reach his brain. because a black cloud covers everything he tries to do. Her fingers reach up to her neck, wandering in the white scar, thin as a paper. She sometimes wants to throw her knife at the Seine, cannot bear to think it may have use at some point in her life, but also holds it tight as she walks alone. 

\--- 

(3 WEEKS LATER)

Marianne was startled by hard knocking at her window. It wasn’t the first time this was happening, but she also didn’t keep her ears open for this sound every night. She sighed and opened the window. The winter air licked her face.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, frustrated.

“Won’t you let me in?” He was wearing his most devilish smile.

She narrowed her eyes, it was hard to resist him. “No. Didn’t I make it clear last time?”

“ _ Come with me _ .”

This was not the thing she expected to hear. “What?”

“Let’s leave France. Together.” He continued as her mouth hanged open. “I- I don’t think I can stay here with my hands tied. I tried, I really did you now but I cannot. Everywhere I look I see the ghosts, my dead friends and even the living ones, because I know I’ll never see them again.”  _ The brotherhood. _ “I got a message from a friend, in return for what he’s asking I can ask for passage.”

Did Paris had anything to offer to her? Did she see any hope for the future?  _ Without Arno? _ “I’ll come with you.” She smiled and pulled him inside, her lips not leaving his for a moment. She giggled as his hands reached up to her skin, the coldness in his fingers seeping right through the flimsy chemise.

\--- 

“When do we leave?” Marianne asked as they laid in the small bed, her head resting on his chest.

“This afternoon.”

“Oh.”  _ That soon?  _

“Saint Denise. Then, somewhere far away from here.”

She nodded. It didn’t matter much as long as they were together.

“Come on, we have work to do.” She supported herself up on her elbow. The first rays of sunlight shone through the windows. He probably needed to set a few things right at the Cafe, and she needed to resign, also all the things were to be packed, and lastly, good-bye’s to make. 

“One thing.” He sat up, reaching for the pocket of his jackets as she properly rose up too. 

She felt the small weight of the cold metal in her palm as he cupped his hand above hers  _ The ring. _ It made her heart warm, and a smile formed at her lips, such a small thing being witness to their history. Such a small thing, easily forgettable, it had left her mind long ago but apparently this wasn’t the case for him.  _ How long did he carry that around?  _

“And what’s this for?” A brutal joke nonetheless she played.

“Uh, I-I think you should have it back... to put it on-?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why should I do that for?”  _ Here comes the panic in his eyes.  _ “We’re not married after all.”

He blushed, finally taking the hint. How could he be this stupid? A string of curses choked upon his tongue as he stopped leaning against the headboard, straightening his posture. She bit the inside of her cheeks to not to laugh, him snatching the ring back clumsily.

“Marianne Genet, will you marry me and make me the happiest man on earth? I-I’m not a lucky man, I’ve never been but I’m so, so, so lucky that you were on that street that night. Even luckier when you accepted my offer, but I didn’t know then. I didn’t think so many things would happen in that room. But I’m glad it did. I’m so glad that Davy and Justine were very cynical about our lives, I’m so glad that those candles lasted long enough for us to talk into late hours –“

She declared, not expecting to hear any more than the first sentence. After everything they’ve been through, would a wow and signatures and other formalities hold much of a value? “Of course I’ll marry you!”


End file.
